


Number 1 Best Friend! No Take Backs Allowed!

by Garicole



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Canon Compliant, Crying, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Smut in the last chapter, a lot of crying, all the seijoh boys make appearances, and comforting each other, boys crying, this fic is so fluffy and it has all my fav tags...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26632288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garicole/pseuds/Garicole
Summary: It’s hard to protect someone you’re desperately in love with, especially when that person is Iwa-chan.Even as he becomes the target of an unknown tormentor, Iwaizumi is determined to be the protective one. However, as he suffers both physically and mentally, Oikawa steps in to prove that he can be just as steadfast and protective as Iwaizumi.Featuring: sharing a bed, hiding in a closet, Oikawa and Iwaizumi worrying about each other, and Kyoutani because I love him.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, implied kyouhaba - Relationship
Comments: 90
Kudos: 390





	1. Hajime's Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> High school boys have one brain cell EACH and this fic is a reflection of that. 
> 
> This is completely written, I just need to edit the later chapters. I'll probably be posting 2 chapters every couple days. Thanks for reading!
> 
> -Gari

Iwaizumi takes one look at his test score, circled in red to emphasize his failure, and stuffs it deep into his backpack where he hopes it will never see the light of day again. He slumps over his desk, buries his head in his arms, and tries to ignore students comparing scores that are probably better than his.

He’s so tired. He’d slept _so_ badly last night. 

The bell rings, signaling the start of Tuesday lunch period. He’s supposed to go meet Oikawa, like always, but just can’t seem lift his head.

Bad test score, coffee spilled down his shirt, realizing he’d forgotten his extra “in-case-of-emergencies” shirt after he’d washed it last week, in love with his best friend, a rejection email from a university he’d applied to, _second_ bad test score. It was just one shitty thing after another today. He wants to crawl back in bed and sleep. 

But no, Fate seemed to be working against him.

“Iwaizumi?” 

He squints up at a figure and blinks rapidly blinks his tired eyes.A girl from his class, Hina, is standing over him, looking expectant. 

“Shit - uh, I mean, yeah, hi Hina, what’s up?” _Well done, Hajime, absolutely splendid, you goddamn moron._

Hina snorts, “Long day?”

“You could say that,” Iwaizumi said, dragging a hand over his face, grimacing when he feels how chapped his lips are. 

“Well, there’s an absolutely adorable second year girl over there, currently freaking out. I think she nearly peed her pants when she asked me if this was ‘Iwaizumi Hajime’s classroom.’ She wants to tell you something.” Hina wiggles her eyebrows at Iwaizumi. “Maybe she’ll give you a kiss to make your day better?”

Iwaizumi lets out a soft groan, low enough that only Hina can hear it. “I seriously doubt it, but thanks Hina. I’ll go see what she wants.”

“We all know what she wants,” she says, walking away with a wave just as Iwaizumi’s phone buzzes. 

_From Oikawa: Iwa-chaaannnnnnnnn! You’re late! Come to our spot! Makki and Mattsun are harassing me and I need backup!_

Iwaizumi types out a quick text before heading towards the girl watching him with wide eyes. He kind of feels like he’s walking to his doom. 

_From You: Send help. Death approaches. Tell ur mom I’ve always loved her._

_From Oikawa: ??? Fuckin wut???_

Iwaizumi doesn’t reply. Instead, he greets the girl. Hina was right. She’s obviously freaking out. She scuffs the tip of a foot on the floor, face already pink, and twists the end of a braid. Iwaizumi sees a letter clutched in her hand, a _stupid pink letter, with hearts on it._ God, he’s so tired. Why can’t the world just leave him alone today?

“Iwaizumi-san?”

“Uh, hi, I don’t think we’ve met,” Iwaizumi says as kindly as he can muster. He thinks of how nice it would be to eat lunch with Oikawa right now. His best friend would probably pull up a video on his phone for them to watch, maybe let him fall asleep on his shoulder. That would be nice. 

“Um, I’m Yamashita Miyu. I’m a second year. Class 3,” she squeaks. 

“Nice to meet you.” Iwaizumi hopes he doesn’t sound as depressed and tired as he thinks he does. 

“I was wondering if maybe I could talk to you alone for a minute?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He waves a hand, indicating for her to lead the way. 

She gives him a wobbly smile and leads him through all the students still lingering in the hallway, stopping by an exit to the outside stairwell and far enough away to avoid being overheard. 

Miyu’s hands shake as she talks, and Iwaizumi thinks that if it were any other day, maybe he could actually muster the energy to be flattered, but right now, he just wants to go home. Sleep. Maybe cry a little. 

But he forces himself to pay attention to Miyu. She deserves at least that. She’s talking about how she’s admired him, likes watching him play volleyball, etc. 

Iwaizumi wonders if she would still be impressed if he showed her the two failed tests in his backpack. 

“-and that’s why I was hoping that, maybe, maybe you would like to go get a smoothie with me after school today? I’d really like to get to know you more, Iwaizumi-san.”

He thinks he might throw up. Or pass out. Or throw up and then pass out. His stomach isn’t really loving whatever he ate (or maybe didn’t eat?) for breakfast today. 

“Um, excuse me, Iwaizumi-san?” Miyu waves a hand in front of his face. 

He forces glazed eyes to focus on the girl. _Miyu,_ his barely functioning brain supplies, _her name is Miyu._

“Sorry,” he says, trying for a weak smile. “It’s been a bit of a stressful day.”

She blinks at him. Iwaizumi hopes those aren’t tears brimming in her eyes. Clearly this conversation is not going how either of them wanted it to. 

“Um, that’s okay,” she pauses and looks at her feet and mumbles something. 

“What?”

Her voice is quivering. “I said, so you don’t want to go g-get a smoothie with me sometime?”

“Erm, sorry, I…I can’t. I’m not really interested,” he says awkwardly. 

She sniffs and looks up at him. Oh God, those _are_ tears. Iwaizumi can’t handle tears. Oikawa’s tears are fine, but other people’s? Especially the tears of a random girl he’s just met? He doesn’t know what to do. Oikawa would know what to do. He’s definitely going to throw up now. Oh God. 

“Er, no, don’t cry. It’s okay. Uh, calm down,” he says halfheartedly, still panicking. He thinks he pats her on the shoulder. He didn’t tell his hand to do that. His face is burning.

“I-I-It’s o-o-okay,” Miyu hiccups through her tears. Iwaizumi really kind of wants to start crying too. He’s just so _tired_. 

He tries to salvage the situation. “You seem nice, but, uh, I just don’t like you…I mean, not that I don’t _like_ you, like as a person, but I just don’t like _like_ you. Like I don’t think I can see myself being with you? Oh God. I’m making this worse. I’m such an asshole. I’m so sorry, Hina.”

Now he can see more tears spilling down her face and she can’t seem suppress her sobs. They start to attract attention. People are staring. Iwaizumi’s hands are numb. He needs to _leave_. 

Suddenly, she stiffens and scowls at him, cheeks red with embarrassment and anger. “Hina? My name is Miyu! I just told you! You….you’re a jerk! The least you could do is remember my name!”

“I’m…I’m so sorry Miyu. I-uh, I-I had…bad…long day…test in backpack…Tooru…I hope you understand?” Iwaizumi can’t get his mouth to work properly. His hands are doing weird, jerky motions without his permission. Is he casting a spell? He tries to force them against his body. He feels so many eyes on him.

Miyu swipes angrily at her teary eyes and bawls, “I should’ve listened to my brother! You’re just an asshole with no brains who just happens to be a little bit good at volleyball!” She rips the confession letter in half, lets it flutter to the floor, and is gone, her sobs echoing in Iwaizumi’s ears.

He’s left staring at the spot where, up until about a second ago, he _thinks_ a crying girl had been confessing to him? The pink scraps of paper at his feet, the feeling of being watched, and the lump in his throat are the only indicator that his day managed to get even worse. 

Numbly, he scoops up the halves of Miyu’s letter, stuffs them in his pocket, and pushes out the stairwell exit, into the chilly winter. 

_______________

Iwaizumi’s sitting on the cold, concrete steps, working up the courage to skip class for the rest of the day. He’d already heard the bell signal the end of lunch. Wind whips by him and he shivers, trying to ignore the pathetic rumble of his stomach. His coffee stained shirt isn’t doing anything to keep the winter cold out. 

Not a single person has intruded on his hiding spot. It’s too cold to use this stairwell in the winter. He fiddles with his phone, nearly dropping it due to icy fingers. It buzzes again. Oikawa has texted him so many times. First to make fun of him for getting to lunch late ( _I mean, you never pass up a chance to eat, Iwa-chan!)_ , then for missing lunch entirely ( _WTF!!! YOU NEVER PASS UP A CHANCE TO EAT! WHERE ARE YOU???)_. 

After that his texts slowly got more and more concerned. 

Iwaizumi looks at the screen. 

_From Oikawa: Hey, please text back so I know you’re okay. Where are you? And why does everyone keep asking me about what you did to Miyu-chan? Please let me know asap!_

He doesn’t respond. He just doesn’t have the energy right now. 

_From Oikawa: I know you’re seeing these! Where are you!!!?? I’m actually really worried right now!!!_

_Iwaizumi shoves his phone into his pocket and his fingers brush the crumpled remains of Miyu’s letter. He pulls it out. He doesn’t read it but does notice that Miyu writes her hiragana with the same cute little flair Oikawa does._

He riffles through his backpack until he finds the athletic tape he’s looking for. There’s not much left. He’s used most of it on Oikawa. 

He rips off a piece and meticulously tries to tape Miyu’s letter back together. He sighs once finished. It looks pitiful. He pulls out a pen, writes “I’m sorry” on the back of the letter, and realizes he doesn’t know Miyu’s locker number. 

He pulls his phone out again. 

_From You: Can you find out what Miyu’s locker number is?_

Iwaizumi counts four seconds before Oikawa responds. 

_From Oikawa: Fucking finally! You’re alive. Where are you? Did you eat? I saved half my lunch for you._

_From You: Please, can you just get me her locker number?_

Another few minutes pass before he sees the dots indicating Tooru is typing. 

_From Oikawa: First floor, #78. Across from the teacher’s lounge._

_From Oikawa: Now tell me where you are!_

_From You: I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow._

_From Oikawa: That’s not helpful! I’m still worried!!!_

Iwaizumi stuffs the phone back into his pocket, then gets up, wincing as his legs ache from the cold and sitting in the same position for over an hour. He heads down the stairs.

The first-floor hallway is deserted, everyone is in class. Except for Iwaizumi. He finds Miyu’s locker easily enough and slips the taped confession letter inside. Hopefully she’ll find it. 

Then he sneaks out and skips class for the rest of the day. 

_______________

“Yo, where’s Iwaizumi?” 

Oikawa doesn’t know what it’s like to be guillotined, but he would imagine it feels very much like this.

Kyoutani is, like, the 100th person to ask him that today. If Oikawa hears that question _one more time_ , he might commit murder.

“I. Don’t. Know. Kyoutani-kun. Why do people keep asking me that!” Oikawa growls through gritted teeth, jumping up to slam a serve on the other side of the court. It’s out of bounds. 

“Fuckin’ chill, dude,” Kyoutani grumbles before turning around and heading back towards a curious Yahaba and Watari. Out of the corner of his eye, Oikawa sees him shrug his shoulders. The three second years start whispering. 

Oikawa inwardly screams and gets ready for another serve. 

His next eight serves are out of bounds. He swears under his breath. He can’t focus. Iwa-chan had just disappeared. Oikawa had asked around, but the last time anyone had seen him was when he’d fled to the outside staircase after speaking with Miyu. 

And what happened with Miyu anyway? Iwaizumi’s gotten confessions before, they both have. But there’s this weird unspoken rule between them where neither of accepts confessions. Oikawa did _one time_ and it ended in disaster. 

Unless Iwaizumi actually liked Miyu and he only turned her down because he felt like he had to? _Iwa-chan would definitely do something like that_ , Oikawa thinks. 

Oikawa had been late to his last class because he’d been out in the cold, scouring the staircase for any sign of his missing best friend. He found nothing and quite frankly, it was too cold to be outside anyway. Iwaizumi would only have hidden out there if he was _really_ upset. The only conclusion Oikawa settles on is that Iwaizumi must’ve gone home. But Iwaizumi has never skipped a class _without_ Oikawa before. It’s one of their _things_. Like going to movie showings at midnight or getting ramen every Thursday.

He misses another serve. 

“Oikawa!” 

He winces, arms stiff at his side.

“Go home,” his coach barks. “Your form is crap. Rest or do whatever you need to do. Just come back tomorrow with your head on straight. And bring Iwaizumi with you! Understand?”

Above his head, Oikawa can _see_ his imaginary guillotine prepare to drop…again.

“Yes sir,” he calls, unable to keep the weariness from his voice. 

Normally he would protest. Oikawa is the captain. He should be here, on the court, with his team. 

But so should his _vice-captain_. 

So without making eye contact with any of his teammates, he ducks out of the gym, showers as fast as possible, and dashes out of school.

Time to go find Iwa-chan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and kudos make my family ask why I keep smiling and laughing at my computer screen :) 
> 
> If you liked this, check out my other fic: [Can I Come Home Now?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451007/chapters/64448323)


	2. Tooru Finds Hajime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime lets Tooru comfort him after his really crappy day. They share the bed.

Iwaizumi is on his bed, staring at his ceiling, trying very hard to think of absolutely nothing at all. 

But his thoughts still drift. _Ceiling could probably do with another coat of paint. But that would mean pulling off the glow-in-the-dark stars. Oikawa helped me put those up. How old were we? Seven? If I took them down, then I’d have to put them back up and admit to Oikawa that I actually like them…or even worse, throw them away and never see them again._

He decides he probably can’t handle seeing his stars in the trash right now…or ever.

He tracks the slow crawl of shadows migrating across his ceiling as the sun goes down. Volleyball practice will be over soon. 

His phone buzzes. It’s probably Oikawa, but he’s also gotten a slew of other texts today. He hasn’t answered any. 

He’s still read every single one though. 

_God, I’m so pathetic._

He checks his phone. 

_From Oikawa: I’m coming over. Do you want me to bring you anything? A sports drink? Which flavor? Red or blue?_

_Iwaizumi considers texting him back. He should text him back._

He pulls the blankets over his head and lets the screen illuminate his makeshift hiding place. 

_From You: i’m fine_

_From Oikawa: Too late. I bought both. You can pick one._

_From Oikawa: OR…_

_From Oikawa: You can have BOTH, but only if you text me back straight away!_

He’s never been able to refuse Oikawa anything. 

_From You: how’d u know where I was?_

_From Oikawa: I didn’t. I was fully prepared to contact your mom and the police if you weren’t at your house._

_From You: u don’t have to come over…_

_From You: sorry_

_From You::(_

_From Oikawa: oh my god. Hang in there. I’m almost here. Is your front door unlocked?_

_From You: yes_

Oikawa sends back the thumbs up emoji and Iwaizumi turns his phone off. It’s dark and warm underneath his comforter. Today’s bullshit seems just a little more distant in the quiet darkness, especially with the promise of Oikawa’s presence. 

_It’s because you’re in love with him_ , his brain helpfully supplies. 

He vaguely wonders if getting a lobotomy is a viable option but is snapped from the thought when he hears his front door open and close in the distance, followed by heavy footfalls coming up the stairs. 

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa’s voice is soft, unlike the loud, peppy tone he often uses at school. 

Iwaizumi just shifts under his blanket, wordlessly letting his friend know he’s here. 

He hears shuffling. Socked feet on that ugly, worn carpet. Jacket unzipping and dropped to the floor. The room gets slightly dimmer. Oikawa flipped the light off. Then some more shuffling.

Iwaizumi’s blankets are pulled back gently, but rather than talking, Oikawa carefully slides into bed next to him and pulls the comforter back over both of their heads. 

In the darkness, he can slightly make out Oikawa’s features. A sliver of the setting sun stripes down his cheek. Just the hint of a brown eye, the left one. He can smell his sweat a little too, but it’s faint, like he already showered after practice, but his walk home was hurried, not his usual leisurely stroll. 

_I made him worry,_ Iwaizumi thinks. It seems his brain is intent on being as unhelpful as possible today.

Oikawa cards his fingers through Iwaizumi’s spiky hair. “Bad day?” he asks. 

“You have no idea,” he mumbles, his first words since that awful, shit-show of an interaction with Miyu. 

“You wanna tell me what happened?” Oikawa’s eyes are watching his closely. 

Iwaizumi gives a dry, humorless laugh before saying, “If I talk I might start crying. That’s how fucking shitty it was.”

He thinks he can just make out Oikawa’s mouth twisting into a sad smile. 

“That’s okay. It’s okay to cry. You’ve seen me do it more times than I can count.”

Iwaizumi just sniffs wetly in response.

“What happened today, Hajime?” Oikawa asks again. 

The switch to “Hajime” is what does it. He keeps his eyes trained on his old, faded sheets as tears well up in his eyes and his mouth seems to fill with all words he didn’t get to say today. He’s left struggling to breathe underneath the monsoon.

But Oikawa’s here, reaching from a lifeboat. So he lets the words surge forward.

“I woke up too late this morning, and-and I forgot mom is away this week, so I didn’t make myself a lunch and it was too late for breakfast. Then we got the English test back, the one I had last week, and I fuckin’ just failed it, after you helped me study for it so hard too. All your work was for nothing. Then some asshole spilled hot coffee on my shirt and fled. I still don’t know who it was and now I think I have a burn. Then I didn’t have an extra shirt, so I got weird looks because I looked gross and smelled like old coffee and the burn hurts and-“ He can feel the tears spilling over and can’t stop them. Oikawa just cards fingers through his hair again and leaves his hand resting on Iwaizumi’s scalp, sifted through spiky locks.

“And-and _then_ I got my chemistry test from last week back, and I failed that one too! And I swear I knew the stuff, but I just couldn’t fuckin’ focus that day and only got through, like, half the test before the time was up and Yamada-sensei wouldn’t give me any more time because he said-he said ’if I knew the material I would’ve finished already like everyone else.’”

Iwaizumi heaves in a shuddering breath before plunging on. Oikawa moves his hand down to his cheek, wiping a few tears away, and mutters, “Yamada-sensei is a prick” under his breath. Iwaizumi falls in love a little bit more. 

“Then I got rejected from that university in America, the one in Boston I really liked and it just made me even _more_ scared and stressed about college. Plus, they didn’t tell me why I was rejected, just sent an email that was like ‘sorry Iwaizumi, we don’t want you, you suck, go die in a hole.”

Oikawa snorts, but keeps his mouth shut. It makes Iwaizumi feel just a tiny bit better. 

“And to fuckin’ top everything off, just because God said, ‘fuck you specifically, Iwaizumi Hajime, you piece of shit garbage,’ I got a confession during lunch and-“

He delves into the whole Miyu debacle. Oikawa watches him the whole time and doesn’t laugh once. _A tribute to so many years of friendship,_ Iwaizumi thinks. If it was yesterday, they probably would’ve laughed all this off. 

Today, Iwaizumi feels like he’ll never laugh again. _And I call Oikawa the drama queen,_ he thinks. 

However, as he unrolls his long list of failures for Oikawa, he starts to feel lighter. 

He finishes ranting, “-and then she called me an asshole, but I mean, she’s _right,_ I called her ‘Hina' by accident. I’m the absolute worst! Then she said something about how I’m a brute with no brains. And I _know_ she didn’t come up with that by herself because everyone at school says that. And I think she said I’m not even very good at volleyball. Oh my god, Oikawa, she was crying so hard. I panicked and just couldn’t move, like a dick. I couldn’t stop her from _crying_. Then, _then_ she just rips her letter and drops it on the ground and runs off. And everyone was just staring at me and I didn’t know what to do, so I grabbed it and just got the fuck outta there.”

His cheeks are still wet, but at least his tears have stopped. Oikawa lightly smooths the lingering wet streaks away with his thumb and the next time Iwaizumi inhales deeply, his chest feels looser. Things seem less scary when you say them out loud to a friend like Oikawa. 

“So you didn’t even want to accept her confession to begin with, right? Not becauseyou thought I would’ve wanted you to refuse or something?” Iwaizumi doesn’t fail to notice the slight waver to Oikawa’s voice. 

“What? Of course not,” Iwaizumi replies, confused. Oikawa changes the subject before he can try and find out why he would ask that. 

“Where did you go next?” Oikawa prompts. 

“Uh, I just, left? I took the outside stairs. I mean, I kinda hung out there for like an hour and half. Then I ditched. Well, I texted you for Miyu’s locker number. Then I left.”

“You were outside for an hour and a half? It was cold enough to snow today, Iwa-chan!”

Laying underneath a pile of warm blankets with Oikawa makes it difficult to care. The cold seems far away. It doesn’t stop Oikawa from continuing to scold him though. “And you skipped lunch. Did you eat at all today? It’s 6 pm. What have you had since I gave you that granola bar this morning?”

Iwaizumi lowers his eyes. “Sorry,” he mutters, ashamed at having made his friend worry. 

Oikawa’s frustration dissipates in an instant. “No, don’t apologize, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’ll order us some take out.”

Oikawa scoots closer and suddenly Iwaizumi feels much too hot. But he’s also _really_ enjoying how close they are right now and doesn’t have the energy to feel guilty about it. Instead, he tiredly pushes his head up underneath Oikawa’s chin and tucks himself into his chest.

He savors the feeling of Oikawa’s throat vibrating as he talks, his chin brushing his forehead, and his breaths tickling the top of his scalp. Right now, underneath the blankets, _everything is Oikawa._ Iwaizumi feels tension seep from his body. He feels like he’s sinking into the bed. He’s just so _warm_. 

“You needed Miyu’s locker number because you wanted to return her letter, right?”

“How’d you know?” Iwaizumi mumbles sleepily. 

Wrapped in his embrace like this, he can feel Oikawa’s shoulders shrug as he says, “Just seems like the kinda thing Iwa-chan would do.”

“I taped it back together and wrote ‘I’m sorry’ on the back before I slipped it in her locker.”

Oikawa doesn’t say anything and it takes Iwaizumi a minute to realize that the reason his friend is shaking is due to silent laugher. 

“Fucking god dammit, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa snickers, a grin still evident in his voice, “I have absolutely no idea why the girls at school even look at me when _you_ are literally right here.” 

Iwaizumi really likes the smile in his voice. He inches just a tiny bit closer.

“Sorry for skipping class without you,” he says quietly. “And sorry for not texting back. And ditching practice. And just generally being a dick.”

“You’re not a dick,” Oikawa replies as he rests his cheek on the top of Iwaizumi’s head. “You had a bad day. That doesn’t mean you’re a dick. And with Miyu, it sounds like you were just kinda abrupt and gruff. Not really mean. You just couldn’t get your thoughts in order.”

“I called her by the wrong name, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi reminds him. 

“Ok, yeah, that’s pretty bad,” he agrees with a snort. “But tomorrow I really don’t think it’ll seem as big a deal. You’ve thought about it too much today, so it seems like a much bigger problem. But now Oikawa-san is here to make it better!”

“But I made her cry. I’m an asshole. How many guys just go around making girls cry?”

“You’d be surprised,” Oikawa hums. 

“Tooru, seriously,” Iwaizumi says, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “I’m not the kind of person who goes around and just hurts people! I’m….I try to be nice. But I really hurt her. I feel so bad! She just stood there and cried in the hallway. I didn’t know what to do. Oh God, everyone at school was absolutely right. I’m just a stupid jerk. I’m an asshole that makes girls cry!” 

“Hey, stop that,” Oikawa says firmly, pulling away slightly from Iwaizumi, enough to look him in the eyes. “Who called you a stupid jerk?”

Iwaizumi shrugs his shoulders in noncommittally and mumbles, “People. I’ve heard them say it.”

“Don’t listen to them. Listen to _me_ instead. You’re perfect. By tomorrow, there’ll be new things for all those _people_ to talk shit about and they’ll have forgotten all about you.” Oikawa pulls their blanket cocoon tighter around them. “And if anyone is mean to you, I’ll fuckin’ kick their asses.”

“Keep talking,” Iwaizumi grumbles.

“Remember back in middle school, there were those older kids on the team with us? The ugliest one, can’t remember his name, cornered me in the toilets and started calling me really nasty, awful things, about being gay and stuff?”

Iwaizumi bristles at the memory and tries to keep residual anger out of his voice when he says, “I remember.”

“You came in and just went absolute batshit crazy on him. It was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen. Pretty sure that was the first time I ever heard you say ‘fuck.’”

“He was a stupid homophobic prick and a bully.”

“You’re right, but my point is, if anyone tries to hurt you over this, I’ll go fuckin’ apeshit on them. And that includes you! Don’t beat yourself up over this. If you do, I’ll beat _you_ up.”

Iwaizumi snorts wetly, but relaxes and tries to let himself be comforted. “Thanks, Oikawa. You’re a really good best friend. I should tell you that more.”

Oikawa’s smile could light up a stadium. “Thanks Iwa-chan. You’re the same to me, too. I don’t think I could find a better best friend anywhere in the world. So let me help you, okay? Let me know when you need another pep talk.”

Iwaizumi nods. He can’t help the affectionate, tiny smile spreading on his face.

“Now,” Oikawa continues, “Can I order us some takeout from that burger place down the road? I’m hungry and you need to eat.” 

Iwaizumi shrugs and pulls the comforter down so they can poke their heads out of the warm blanket cave. He inhales the cool, clean air. The sun has gone down and, on the ceiling, Tooru’s stars glow faintly. 

Oikawa plucks his phone off the nightstand and says, “I’m putting in an order and I don’t care that the place is a two minute walk away. I’m getting delivery anyway. We deserve it. What do you want on your burger?”

“I want a milkshake,” Iwaizumi says as Oikawa holds the phone to his ear, calling the burger joint. He doesn’t care that he sounds like a petulant baby. He wants ice cream.

Oikawa rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You have to eat real food first. _Then_ you can have a milkshake.”

Iwaizumi grins for the first time that day. The stars have aligned and his moment has finally come. 

“Oikawa, are you my mom?”

The poor soul that answers the phone is greeted by Oikawa’s indignant shrieks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments and kudos make my family ask why I keep smiling and laughing at my computer screen :) 
> 
> If you liked this, check out my other fic: [Can I Come Home Now?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26451007/chapters/64448323)
> 
> -Gari


	3. Maybe Everything Is Fine...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooru worries, but still manages to goof around with Iwa-chan.

Oikawa wakes to something hard digging into his hip and as much as he wishes it was Iwa-chan’s morning erection, the fact that it’s screeching and vibrating makes him think it’s more likely to be his phone. 

“-kawa, get your damn alarm.” Iwaizumi shifts next to him, nudging him with his elbow easily enough in the small, childhood bed. 

Oikawa pretends to be asleep. 

“For fucks sake, Shittykawa, where the hell is your phone?” 

He feels the bed shifting as Iwaizumi moves around, growling and lethargically sifting through the sheets. Oikawa feels heat shoot up his spine when Iwaizumi’s fingers nudge his bare thigh, just below the fabric of his boxers. His voice is all scratchy from sleep, grumbles low and dragging. Oikawa really wants to know what he tastes like. 

_If I could just have this forever, then maybe it would be enough, maybe I can stop wanting more from Hajime,_ he thinks. 

He tries to focus on something besides giving in and climbing on top of his best friend and making out until they can’t feel their lips anymore. 

_So many years of friendship, Tooru. Don’t fuck this up._

Iwaizumi finally digs the phone out from underneath Oikawa’s hip. He tries to restrain his shiver when he feels a warm palm on his side. 

“Ugh, finally,” Iwaizumi moans in relief as he silences the alarm. Oikawa feels the bed shake as he flops back down next to him. 

“I wanna ditch today,” Oikawa says, keeping his eyes closed. 

“We can’t,” Iwaizumi groans. “I missed half a day yesterday.”

“Don’t care.” Oikawa rolls over until he’s on top of Iwaizumi, keeping his friend from moving. 

“Hey! Get your heavy ass off of me,” Iwaizumi laughs and pokes insistently at Oikawa’s side. 

“No.”

Iwaizumi pushes Oikawa off him, back onto the mattress, saying, “Better get moving, Lazykawa.” He starts to poke his cold toes into Oikawa’s butt. 

Oikawa still doesn’t move. 

“Duuude mooove,” Iwaizumi whines sleepily. 

Oikawa knows what’s coming. It happens every time, but he’s still unable to brace himself for the feeling of Iwaizumi’s _literal_ ice cube toes digging underneath his shirt and prodding into his warm, bare skin. 

He leaps out of bed with a shriek. 

Iwaizumi laughs at him like he does _every single fucking time_ he pulls that shitty move. 

“It wasn’t funny when we were nine and it’s not funny now, Iwa-chan!”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Iwaizumi says as he stands with a groan. He stretches and the muscles of his back shift in mesmerizing patterns beneath tanned skin. Oikawa watches in a trance, woken up only when Iwaizumi ruffles his hair and huffs, “C’mon,” before leaving the room.

Completely unaware of Oikawa’s traitorous thoughts, he tempts him further, saying, “I’ll even make us pancakes for breakfast.”

“Really!? Such a sweet-talker! And yes _please!_ With bananas?”

“Obviously,” Iwa-chan calls fondly. 

_______________

While Iwaizumi is brushing his teeth, Oikawa sits on the bed and shoots a quick text to Mattsun and Makki.

_From You: Stop changing your names in my phone assholes!!_

_From Gigantic Centaur Cock: stop my giant centaur cock from deflowering ur mom and we’ll talk._

_From Peepee-Poopoo-Makki: nice_

_From Peepee-Poopoo-Makki: 69_

_From Peepee-Poopoo-Makki: 420_

_From You: STOP THAT! This is about Iwa-chan! He’ll probably explain later, but for now could you just get everyone on the team to be normal at practice today? Tell them not to ask him about yesterday. Please?_

_From Gigantic Centaur Cock: sure. is he okay?_

_From You: Yeah, he’ll be fine. He just a had a shit day yesterday._

_From Peepee-Poopoo-Makki: ok, anything else we can do to help?_

_From You: Only if he specifically asks for something. Thanks though! See you guys in a bit._

_From Gigantic Centaur Cock: he’s probably gonna ask for my gigantic centaur cock…_

_From Peepee-Poopoo-Makki: nice._

_From Peepee-Poopoo-Makki: but he’d probably just ask for oikawa’s giant cock first._

_From You: BLOCKED!_

Oikawa slumps over on the bed and rolls towards the spot Iwaizumi had slept in last night. It’s still warm and smells like him. 

Gazing up at the glow-in-the-dark-stars on the ceiling, Oikawa waits and tries to think of what he can do to help his best friend.

_______________

Oikawa knew he was being overprotective, but he didn’t care. _This is Iwa-chan, so no taking chances!_

Morning practice had gone well. When Coach had tried to ask Iwaizumi where he had been yesterday, Mattsun caused a distraction by hurling a volleyball at the back of Kyoutani’s head. In the following chaos, Iwaizumi’s absence was forgotten. 

Kyoutani only settled once Yahaba started carefully prodding the back of his head. “To make sure you don’t have a concussion,” he’d elaborated with bright red cheeks. 

“That’s not how concussions work,” Makki supplied helpfully.

He probably deserved the volleyball Yahaba chucked at him, but Kyoutani’s bright red face had most definitely been worth it.

After morning practice, Oikawa had walked Iwaizumi to his first class and dropped him off _just_ as the bell rang. He planned to time it perfectly so Iwa-chan wouldn’t have to field any questions from nosy classmates.

The fact that Oikawa was late for his _own_ class mattered very little and by the time lunch rolled around, Oikawa was, once again, dutifully waiting for Iwa-chan outside of his classroom, like a parent picking their kid up from daycare. 

Iwaizumi sees Oikawa at the door and gives him a sheepish smile. A faint blush dusts his cheeks. Oikawa immediately decides he likes that shade of pink on that handsome, tanned face. He also tries not to think too deeply about what Iwaizumi’s blush means. 

“You know, you don’t have to babysit me all day,” Iwaizumi says as he follows Oikawa towards the unused office where they eat lunch with Mattsun and Makki. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Oikawa replies airily, letting them into the tiny, cozy space.

They’d made the small room their own. There’s a stolen gym mat rolled out on the floor. Mattsun and, surprisingly, Iwaizumi, had confessed to stealing it after practice one day. The unused teacher’s desk is shoved into a corner, a battered box of punctured, useless volleyballs resting on top. Oikawa keeps insisting he’ll find a use for them, he just _needs some time, dammit!_

The single window lets in the cold winter sun, but a standing lamp in the corner bathes the room in a warm glow. 

There may or may not be a badly drawn penis on the wall that no one will own up to. 

Iwaizumi plops himself down on the floor and starts unpacking his lunch, responding to Oikawa with, “Thanks though, really Tooru. I mean it.” 

The genuine smile Iwaizumi shoots him and the use of his name makes Oikawa’s stomach do cartwheels. 

_Stop that. He’s your best friend. You’ve seen him pick his nose. His farts smell so bad. He has that one toe that’s super weird looking. You don’t have a crush. He’s your friend. He’s gross. You don’t like him._

The way his heartbeat picks up makes him out to be a liar. 

_You like him so much._

_I don’t._

_You’re in love with him._

_I’m not!_

Oikawa tries to ignore his stupid brain by settling cross-legged on the floor and pulling out his own lunch. He turns to Iwaizumi and asks, “Did anyone say anything to you about yesterday?” 

Iwaizumi shrugs. “A couple people. Mostly it seems like everyone already figured it out. I think this morning a first year got into an argument with a teacher. Mostly people were just talking about that.” 

“Good,” Oikawa hums in satisfaction. “That should be it then, right? No more spiraling?” he asks playfully, nudging Iwaizumi’s knee gently with his own. 

Oikawa silently thanks the universe when Iwaizumi gifts him with yet _another_ smile. This time it’s just a small quirk of his mouth, but Oikawa still really likes the way his lips curve. _God_ , he just wants to make out with him for hours. He wants to feel those chapped, pink lips brush his own. 

“No more spiraling,” Iwaizumi echoes as he presses his knee back into Oikawa’s.

The door opens. 

They jerk apart, even though they were _barely_ touching, as Mattsun strides in. He greets them with a middle finger and a polite, “Sup, cucks.”

Makki follows closely behind.

Iwaizumi responds in kind. “Glad to see you managed to haul your magnum centaur dong all the way to school today.”

“Ah yes, indeed. But shouldn’t you be somewhere else, like perhaps Shiratorizowa? And _where_ is your costume? You can’t be seen without it!” Mattsun is speaking to Iwaizumi, but his eyes are on Oikawa. 

And he’s smirking.

“What the heck are you talking about?” Oikawa asks, completely baffled. 

Mattsun, Makki, and Iwaizumi all look at him expectantly. 

“Wait-,” Oikawa straightens up and glares at Iwaizumi suspiciously. When his best friend shoots him a smug grin, Oikawa whips out his phone, and sure enough, the contact that once read “Iwa-chan” now shows “Ushijima’s Fursona.”

“When did you even do this!?” Oikawa squawks amidst Makki’s cackles. 

He doesn’t get an answer. He doesn’t really expect to.

They pass the rest of their free time goofing around. Oikawa starts feeling calmer as the conversation slowly devolves into angry complaints about the stress of applying to colleges and planning their futures.

If Iwaizumi notices him change the contact back to “Iwa-chan” and then add “<3” after a moment, he doesn’t say anything. 

_______________

Oikawa decides he doesn’t need to wait for Iwaizumi outside of his classroom for the rest of the day. Things go back to normal. Well, as normal as they can be for someone in love with his best friend. 

They have to stay late after volleyball practice ends. Unfortunately, being captain and vice-captain means that sometimes they have to do a little extra paperwork. 

Oikawa shoves the stack of permission slips he’d been carrying into a battered old filing cabinet at the back of the gym’s musty storage closet. 

“I’m just saying,” he explains adamantly to Iwaizumi, who’s holding the door open to the dark gym, waiting for him. “If I was in a court of law and _Mr. Lawyerman_ said to me, ‘ _Oikawa Tooru, name your favorite kink or else this group of kids will die and you’re gonna go to jail for the rest of your life_ ,’ I would probably end up saying daddy kink because, one, it’s hot, and two, out of all the kinks, it seems least likely to get me kink-shamed.”

“I’m kink-shaming you,” Iwaizumi says with a snort, shutting the door behind Oikawa and following him across the darkened gym.

“Oh shut up. You said you would pick handcuffs not even 30 seconds ago. If either of us gets to kink-shame someone, it’s me.”

“ I said _maybe handcuffs._ MAYBE. And I  _said_ I would only pick it if I was under oath! If I had to tell the truth! I would never do anything that would make my partner uncomfortable! I mean, Oikawa, I’m in _court_. I can’t just lie! And _plus_ all those kids would die!”

“Iwa-chan’s blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“I can see it. It’s very cute.” Even in the semi-darkness, Oikawa enjoys watching Iwaizumi’s blush deepen further. 

“Shut it, dickmunch. Besides, how would that situation ever even come about? Why would a lawyer need to know you want to be called ‘daddy’ in bed to save a bunch of fuckin’ kids?”

“Oh Iwa-chan, so sweet, so innocent. _I don’t think I said_ I _wanted to be called ‘daddy,’ now did I?”_

Iwaizumi pretends to vomit. “Fuckin’ gross, Shittykawa.” 

He shoves him and Oikawa stumbles, but a hand shoots out to steady him. 

Oikawa boldly flings out an arm and swipes Iwaizumi on the ass in retaliation. Then, seeing the indignation on his friend’s face, he sprints for the gym exit, cackling wildly with Iwaizumi hot on his heels. 

“You better run!” Iwaizumi yells, snorting with laughter. Oikawa hears him pounding across the gym behind him, quickly gaining ground. 

Escape becomes impossible. He can’t run and laugh at the same time. Iwaizumi catches him easily. 

Oikawa squeals as he’s pulled into a headlock. Grappling proves useless. Iwaizumi has always been the stronger of the two. Oikawa settles for repeatedly whacking his friend on the butt until he can wriggle free. 

Laughing, Iwaizumi steps back and raises his hands in surrender. “Truce?”

Oikawa lunges forward, aiming for one more butt slap, but Iwaizumi dodges, hands still raised, and levels Oikawa with a look that reminds him of a disappointed mother.

“Okay, okay, truce, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa raises his own hands and shakes them in Iwaizumi’s face, just because he wants to annoy him some more. He also tries to look as innocent as possible.

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon, let’s get out of here.” Iwaizumi flips him off and starts walking away. 

Oikawa hurries to catch up to him.

As they exit the gym and head down the hallway, towards the fluorescent light spilling from the locker room, Iwaizumi asks, “Do you really think using handcuffs is more embarrassing than having a daddy kink?”

Oikawa thinks he sounds almost…anxious? That doesn’t make any sense… 

“Aw, Iwa-chan! Don’t be embarrassed. I would never kink-shame you,” he says with a laugh, slinging an arm over those broad, muscled shoulders. “Friends don’t kink-shame friends,” he promises solemnly. 

“I’m not-! Oh my god, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi exclaims in exasperation, shouldering open the door to the locker room. “Why did we even start this conversa-“

Iwaizumi stops dead in the entryway to the locker room. Oikawa stumbles at the abrupt stop, shoulder bumping into a muscled arm. 

“Iwa-chan? Why’d you sto-“ Oikawa chokes, “-Holy shit! What happened in here!?”

The locker room is in chaos. It’s strewn with ripped papers, textbooks, pens, and other school supplies. There’s a ripped shirt in the sink. A shoe in the trashcan. What looks like leftovers from a lunch hurled at the mirror. _Wait a second_ , it takes Oikawa a moment to realize, _all these things…all of them…are Iwaizumi’s…_

Iwaizumi tears from Oikawa, ignoring his scattered belongings as he sprints to his locker. Oikawa can hear him muttering “shit shit shit shit” over and over again. 

Locker #4, the one that belongs to Iwaizumi, is hanging wide open. Iwaizumi keeps mumbling to himself as he frantically digs inside, tossing more of his own belongings to the ground. 

“Iwa-chan? What are you looking for? Who did this?”

He doesn’t get a response, until- “Fuck. Damn it. Fuck!” Iwaizumi yells and kicks the base of the locker. He leaves a dent.

Oikawa jumps, stunned. It’s rare for his best friend to have a genuine, angry outburst. Most of the time, it’s all for show. Although, if there was a time for him to let his anger out, Oikawa supposes it’s now.

_“_ Iwa-chan?” Oikawa calls again tentatively. 

“Fuck, Toor- Oikawa, I’m sorry. I just- whoever did this- they broke it _._ I’m such a fucking idiot for keeping it at school. I’m so fucking stupid. God.” He slams the locker door shut and presses his forehead into the metal.

Oikawa is so confused. Iwaizumi sounds close to tears. 

“What did they break?” he asks him carefully. 

Iwaizumi turns around to face Oikawa. 

And cradled in his hands Oikawa sees something that is oddly familiar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I really appreciate it :)  
> -Gari


	4. Everything Is Not Fine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime and Tooru are really cute as little kids.

“Oh-is that…is that, um, the silly trophy I made Iwa-chan? Back when we were little?”

The old memory sweeps over Oikawa suddenly. It covers him like a blanket and he’s left reeling with the ghosts of senses long past. 

He can feel grass on his knees and tears on his cheeks. The hot, humid smell of summer saturates the air. The slow, uncertain voice of someone just learning to read sounds out letters. Fragments of vision flicker by: brightly colored bandaids, tiny fingers clutching a bottle of gold paint, the clumsy handwriting of a child. 

And a single phrase echoing…It had been so important at the time…

_“Iwa-chan! I promise I won’t find a new best friend at space camp! You’re number one! Forever and ever! Pinky promise!”_

_“You’d never find anyone as cool as me anyway. Plus, I have best superhero toys out of everyone at school.”_

_Hajime, seven years old, scuffs at the dirt with his worn, green sneakers and scratches at one of the many bug bites on his arms._

_Little Tooru shifts from one foot to the other in the middle of the deserted park. His eyes dart down to his red sandals. He wiggles his toes and presses the tips of his index fingers together anxiously._

_“Um, Iwa-chan should promise not to get another best friend while I’m gone too. Okay?”_

_Hajime stoops to pick a stick up off the ground. He turns his back on Tooru and starts poking it into the dirt.“That’s stupid,” he says with huff. “Why should I promise something like that?”_

_Tooru squats down next to his friend.He keeps his eyes on his red sandals and wraps his arms around his knees, rocking back and forth slightly._

_“Um, I guess, well, because…just…please?” His voice wobbles._

_It causes Hajime to whirl on him, dirt flying everywhere._

_“Oi! Are you crying!?”_

_“No!” Tooru keeps his head down, trying to hide his shame. Tears slip over his pale cheeks, peppering the dirt at his feet._

_Hajime groans and Tooru hears the stick snap. “Tooru, why are you crying?”_

_“Iwa-chan is gonna replace me with someone better!” Tooru sniffles._

_Old green sneakers and scabby knees peek into his vision as Hajime squats down in front of him. He places his feet right over the dark spots where Tooru’s tears had soaked into the dirt._

_“I’m not,” comes Hajime’s voice,“I promise, okay? I only meant that I would never do that anyway. I don’t want another best friend. Just you.”_

It only takes a second to change Oikawa’s life forever. 

Just you. Just you. Just you. 

_The words take root in Tooru’s head. They tangle and weave and bind with anything remotely_ Hajime _and even at seven years old, he knows that_ something _important is happening. He’s just not quite sure what…_

_A finger pokes at his shoulder. He sees a purple bandaid wrapped around the tip of it. It pokes him again._

_“Hey,Tooru?”_

_Hajime wants his attention._

_Tooru snaps out of his trance. “Do you mean it? Just me?” he mumbles, hastily swiping at his tearstained cheeks._

_Hajime nods much too solemnly for a seven year old and repeats, “Just you. Forever. No take backs.”_

_Then he frowns and clenches his jaw. “And of course I mean it! Best friends don’t lie!”_

_And in that instant Tooru is struck with the most brilliant, most clever, just the absolute_ best _idea in the all the galaxies._

_He springs up from his crouch, tears now ignored, and startles Hajime, who goes sprawling on his back into the dirt with an “oof!”_

_“You’re the best, Iwa-chan! I promise, it’s just me and you forever and ever! And I have something really important for you to prove it! But you gotta wait ‘til tomorrow, ‘kay?”_

_Hajime doesn’t get up from the dirt. He just sits and stares at Oikawa, standing over him and grinning his gap-toothed smile._

_“Aren’t you leaving for space camp tomorrow?” Hajime asks with a tilt of his head._

_Tooru nods eagerly. “Yep! But not ‘til after lunch! So make sure you come over in the morning! Promise?”_

_Hajime thrusts his hand out and extends his pinky. There’s a green bandaid wrapped around this one._

_“Pinky promise,” he says firmly, seriously, eyebrows wrinkling just the slightest._

_Tooru twists his tiny pinky around his best friend’s._

_“Okay! Don’t forget, Iwa-chan!” And then he dashes off with a smile and a wave._

_________________

_Tooru sits at the bottom of his carpeted stairs, stomach full of the sugary cereal he had for breakfast and eyes trained on his front door. He’s packed and ready for camp. There’s just one thing left to do._

_A shadow flickers across the window and Tooru springs up before his friend even has a chance to knock._

_“Iwa-chan!” he yells, whipping the door open._

_“Hi Tooru!” Hajime greets him, poking him in the stomach with a grin, carefree and ready to play._

_Tooru bats his friend’s hand away and grabs his wrist, pulling him inside._

_“Mom helped me with it all last night,” he chatters excitedly. “I thought of it yesterday when we were playing and-“_

_“What the heck are you talking about?” Hajime asks with a laugh._

_“Hajime! I’m trying to tell you!” Tooru huffs, tossing his thin arms up in exasperation, something he’d seen his mother do countless times. “It was when we were playing yesterday and YOU said you weren’t gonna get a new best friend while I’m at camp and then you said you didn’t even WANT a new best friend. Just me. You said those exact words, remember? And so I just thought of this and it was the best idea ever so of course I had to do it, but I needed Mom’s help and-and just come on Iwa-chan! I put it on the steps!”_

_Tooru keeps tugging Hajime along until they’re at the bottom of the carpet-clad stairs._

_“Here!” Tooru bends down and grabs a brightly colored bag._

_He thrusts it at a bewildered Hajime._

_“Why does the bag say ‘Happy Birthday?” he asks, slightly confused._

_Tooru blushes. “I couldn’t find a better one. Just open it!”_

_Hajime gingerly takes the bag from Tooru with gentle, bandaid-covered hands. There’s a new one, pink this time, wrapped around the base of his thumb. He weighs the gift, hefting it up very carefully, eyes curious._

_“Wait, isn’t this the bag I gave you your birthday present in last week?”_

_“Stop looking at the bag, Iwa-chan! Open it! Open it! Open it!” Tooru starts chanting._

_A loud bang comes from upstairs._

_“Oh my god! Tooru, shut the hell up!” his sister yells._

_“She’s lucky mom isn’t home right now,” Tooru pouts. But then his face morphs back into feverish excitement and he repeats his chant in a whisper: “Open it! Open it! Open it!”_

_“Fine, fine, fine,” Hajime tells him, grinning. He starts fishing inside the bag, pulling out tissues, scraps of newspaper, a plastic bag, and letting each drop to the floor._

_“What the heck is all this crap?” he asks, eyeing a fistful of cotton balls before releasing them to join the rest of the debris on the floor._

_Tooru, still watching him and face flushed, proudly proclaims, “Protection! I didn’t want it to break!”_

_“Want_ what _to break? Oh-“_

_Hajime pulls out an object and it takes him a second to realize what it is._

_In his small hand he cradles a plastic action figure that has been painted gold. Well, mostly gold. There’s a dab of pink on his head. In other spots, the red and blue of the original, colored plastic peeks through._

_The figure’s arms are positioned so that he’s flexing. The hasty paint job is flaking off in bits of gold near the feet, where he’s been secured to a small, unpainted block of wood using a combination of hot glue and scotch tape. In green marker along the base, in the choppy handwriting of a seven year old, there’s an inscription-_

_“Uh, it says, okay, um…’Number 1…Best…uh…Best…Friend!’ Number 1 Best Friend!” Hajime declares proudly. He’s still learning to sound out his letters._

_“There’s a little more! Keep reading!”_

_“Ok, ok! Umm…’No…Take…Backs'…A-All…?” Hajime slows, eyebrows knit in confusion._

_Thankfully, he has Tooru, who chimes in, “Allowed! That one is ‘allowed!’ I had trouble with that word too!”_

_“Oh!” Hajime looks back to the inscription, confidently rereading, “Number 1…Best Friend! No…Take Backs…Allowed! Wow! You wrote all of that?”_

_He looks up at Tooru, who is poking his index fingers together, slim shoulders scrunched all the way to his ears._

_“Um, well, Mom helped a little. I told her I wanted it to say ‘Number 1 Best Friend! No Take Backs Allowed!’ and she told me what letters to use. And-and she helped with the hot glue gun. Um, does…does Iwa-chan like it?”_

_A giant grin lights up Hajime’s face and he jumps on his best friend, tackling him in a huge hug. He hastily stretches out the hand cradling the trophy to prevent it from being crushed._

_“I love it! This is the first trophy I’ve ever gotten!” He tells Tooru excitedly. “This is so cool! Do you think mom and dad will let me bring it to school to show everyone?” Hajime is practically vibrating with enthusiasm._

_The tension evaporates from Tooru’s shoulders as quickly as it arrived and he grins so big he feels like his cheeks might pop._

_“Yay! Iwa-chan really is the number one best friend!”_

_And Tooru starts describing every step of the process for Hajime: Where he found the gold paint, how he decided on_ this _particular action figure and not the_ other _one that they both like, and “see here? I messed up and got the paints mixed accidentally and Mom said it was too late to fix it cause’ it was bedtime so there’s some pink in his hair, right there, see?”_

_“Ha! Pink hair!?” Hajime hollers in delight._

_“Nee-san said it makes him look cooler though. Well, she used a different word. She said the word-“ Tooru looks around quickly and drops his voice to a whisper “-badass.”_

_Hajime doesn’t look too impressed._

_“Iwa-chan, that’s a BAD word,” Tooru informs him wisely and more than a little bit gleeful. “Mom heard her and got mad. Then Nee-san got in more trouble because she said this house was a ‘poophole.’”_

_“Poophole?” Hajime lets loose a delighted peel of laughter._

_“Poophole!” Tooru confirms, his own giggles bubbling up._

_Like most kids, Hajime and Tooru possess the unique talent to utterly lose themselves in wheezing, whooping, intoxicating laughter. They fall apart in breathless giggles, yelping “poophole” again and again._

_“‘We’re in a poophole!” Hajime manages to gasp, like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. It has Tooru collapsing, overcome with silent giggles all over again._

_Hajime slings his arm around Tooru’s skinny shoulders, small bandaid-clad fingers clinging tightly to his best friend’s “Space Camp Adventurer” shirt._

_“See you at the poophole in a week!” He promises with more snorts of bright, childish laughter._

_________________

With glassy, grief-stricken eyes, Iwaizumi nods and says to Oikawa, “It’s broken.”

And it is.

Cradled in Iwaizumi’s palms, the once proudly-crafted trophy now lays butchered. The gold-painted action figure has been torn from his pedestal. His right arm has been snapped in half. He's missing a leg. The brutal treatment has caused the gold paint to flake off in larger pieces, allowing more dull plastic to show. The wooden block, once carefully inscribed with “Number 1 Best Friend! No Take Backs Allowed!” is now useless without its heroic model, standing tall.

Oikawa can’t handle the heartbroken look on Iwaizumi’s face a second longer. He takes two long strides, gently gathers the pieces from calloused palms, and sets them on a bench. 

Then he drags Iwaizumi into a fierce hug, holding him with all his strength. 

Iwaizumi’s arms squeeze back just as hard.

“I’m really trying to think of a stupid joke to make you feel better,” Oikawa murmurs. He keeps his arms wrapped firmly around his best friend’s shoulders, even as they start to shake. “But, honestly, I can’t think of anything to say.”

“It’s okay,” Iwaizumi replies lowly. He shakily exhales and his chest rises and falls against Tooru’s.

“I know I’m being dumb. This is stupid. _I’m_ stupid,” Iwaizumi mutters. 

“No!” Oikawa cries, pulling back to look him in the face. Iwaizumi’s eyes are no longer glassy, but a weight has settled onto his shoulders. “Listen to me, Iwa-chan. Don’t do that! You can’t just write this off and hide away from me! This is exactly what you did yesterday. You just disappeared without a word to handle everything by yourself! You don’t have to pretend this isn’t happening just because it makes you feel sad and angry and helpless. It’s okay for you to _want_ help. Is it stupid when _I_ need _your_ help?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head and says with a little, annoyed huff, “Of course not!”

“Then why can’t you allow yourself the same kindness you allow me?” 

Tooru doesn’t move to wipe his own wet eyes. He just watches his friend. Iwaizumi, always so stubborn, so determined to be strong enough to handle anything. _Always always always_ there when Oikawa needs nothing and everything, but then denying himself the same comfort, the same love he gives freely to others. 

Iwaizumi says nothing and his green eyes follow a tear’s slow descent over Oikawa’s cheek. Oikawa can feel it cling to his chin before it falls. Iwaizumi watches it hit the floor.

Oikawa closes his eyes and sighs, disappointed and deeply wishing he could be more useful. _Iwa-chan is such a stubborn bastard_ , he thinks, when suddenly he hears quiet sniffles. 

Iwaizumi looks up and his green eyes shine with tears. He’s shaking with silent sobs and just _looking_ at Oikawa and it breaks his heart into pieces. 

Just like the trophy. 

Iwaizumi pulls Oikawa back in and buries his wet face into his neck. Oikawa shivers slightly as he feels Iwaizumi’s tears drip down the column of his throat, slide underneath the collar of his thin t-shirt, and down his chest. 

And then he’s crying just as hard too. He clings tight to Iwaizumi’s broad frame and lets himself be held in return.

Iwaizumi’s voice is muffled, sobbing, “It’s just not fair. It’s not fucking fair.” 

Oikawa holds him tighter and can’t help but think that maybe Iwaizumi's not just talking about the state of the locker room, strewn with his destroyed belongings. 

_______________

It takes them close to two hours to clean up the locker room. They discuss who and why someone might do this as they work.

Oikawa is left so confused. This act of blatant bullying makes no sense. _Everyone_ loves Iwa-chan. Teachers call on him because they know he’ll have the right answer, classmates invite him out to parties, teammates come to him for help. He’s the kind of person people smile at when they pass him in the hallway. 

“I just don’t know who would do something like this,” Iwaizumi says in frustration. He’s fishing his belongings out of the sink. He grimaces when he sees his favorite volleyball t-shirt sliced right up the front.

“Miyu did it,” is Oikawa’s first response. He’s on the floor, picking up Hajime’s anatomy notes. Some can be salvaged. Those he carefully tapes back together. Some are in scraps. Those he sets aside. Hajime will want to re-write them. He’s always telling Tooru it’s his most important class. He wants to be an athletic trainer. 

Iwaizumi pulls his shoe from the trashcan and starts hunting for the other, saying, “I don’t think so. She didn’t strike me as that kind of person.”

“One of her friends?” Oikawa suggests next.

“Maybe. I don’t know. Still seems unlikely.”

Oikawa gives a frustrated groan and goes back to thinking. Finally he bursts out, “Ushiwaka!”

“No.” 

Oikawa just sighs dramatically and goes back to scooping scraps of notes into a plastic bag. All of Iwaizumi’s careful, precise handwriting now a waste. 

He’s just finished wiping splattered food from the mirror when he sees his friend check under the benches for the third time in the last five minutes. 

“What are you looking for?” he asks.

“I can’t find it!”

“Can’t find what?”

“The leg! He doesn’t have his leg and it’s not anywhere in here!”

Oh, the trophy. Oikawa glances over at the remains, wrapped up carefully in one of Iwaizumi’s shirts. 

“It’s gotta be in here somewhere,” he tells his friend. 

“I’ve been looking for it for 20 minutes now! I even went through the trash!” Iwaizumi’s voice is thin and unsteady. 

“We’ll keep an eye out for it,” Oikawa promises him. He doesn’t know what else to say. 

The other goes back to searching. 

“We should tell someone about this,” Oikawa says after a tense minute. 

“No, I don’t want the attention.” 

“But what if this isn’t a one time thing?”

His best friend shrugs. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.” His voice has turned stubborn.

“Okay, Iwa-chan.” 

Oikawa isn’t happy, but he won’t push back. Iwaizumi needs him on his side right now. 

They finish cleaning and walk home together in silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All your comments and kudos make me so happy!
> 
> -Gari


	5. Out to Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyoutani appears. Tooru discovers that his worries weren't baseless.

Oikawa can’t stop his mind from wandering in class the next day. He had a nightmare last night. A bad one. It was about Iwa-chan and the locker room and the little broken trophy and now he’s plagued with thoughts of more terrible things happening to his best friend. 

_What if yesterday was just the first incident? What if someone breaks into his locker again? What if he gets another confession and actually accepts it this time? What if someone really wants to hurt him? What if they shoot him? What if someone kills him-_

He shakes his head. He’s being ridiculous. _It’s fine. Nothing is gonna happen,_ he tries to comfort himself. It doesn’t work. He needs reassurance and there’s only one person it can come from. 

He texts Iwaizumi. 

_From You: Has anything happened?_

For once in his life Iwa-chan texts him back immediately. Oikawa can’t help but think his best friend might be just as distracted as he is. 

_From Iwa-chan <3: Like in the general scheme of things or like to me, specifically? _

_From Iwa-chan <3: Makki told me to get my nipples pierced for the eighth time this week and it’s only Wednesday. _

_From You: Assmunch, you know what I meant. Answer my question._

_From Iwa-chan <3: No, nothing has happened. No one has done anything weird. I’m thinking yesterday was the end of it. _

_From You: I sure hope so…_

_Iwa-chan <3 has sent a link_

_From Iwa-chan <3: Is this about you???_

Oikawa makes sure to mute his phone before he clicks the link. It takes him to a video titled “Famous Pro-Setter Audibly Farts During Match.” Oikawa almost laughs out loud. He types back a text. 

_From You: No, it was Tobio-chan._

_From Iwa-chan <3: hahaha_

Iwaizumi sends a little laughing emoji too and it makes Oikawa’s heart clench with affection. He screenshots the conversation and ends up thinking about Iwaizumi for the rest of his class. 

_______________

Oikawa is struggling to free his Math textbook from the depths of his locker when he hears a shout and the sound of objects skittering across a floor. It’s comes from down the hallway and he sees people rushing to congregate at the top of the stairs. With a wrench, his textbook is freed, and he goes to investigate, just as curious as everyone else. 

Worried whispers fill the air as students stand around in a dense cluster near the stairs. Someone shouts, “Go get the nurse!” Oikawa slowly pushes his way to the front, suddenly scared for some reason.

His ears are filled with hushed voices asking all sorts of questions.

"What happened?"

"Is he alright?"

"Should we go get a teacher?"

"Isn't he on the volleyball team?"

All the whispers are cut off as soon as Oikawa hears a voice that sounds like Makki’s yell, “Shit! Hey! Hey! Iwaizumi!”

His breath quickens and he starts shouldering through students a lot faster. He finally breaks through, arriving at the top of the flight of stairs connecting the second and third floors, and nearly trips over a familiar navy-blue backpack.

He processes it all in slow motion. Iwaizumi’s backpack, at his feet. Iwaizumi’s phone, three steps below. An anatomy textbook, knocked open and spilling notes. On the second-floor landing, a hand, belonging to someone he vaguely recognizes at Kyoutani, shaking a body. Makki leaning over the figure on the ground.

Iwa-chan. 

Iwa-chan on the ground. Eyes closed. 

Oikawa snaps out of his trance and scrambles down the steps. He slides to his knees next to his best friend, who’s curled in on himself. There’s blood on his forehead and a dark bruise forming around a long cut that stretches down from his hairline. There’s another bruise blossoming on his cheek. His lip is bleeding. Oikawa struggles to reconcile the Iwa-chan he knows with the prone, beaten figure in front of him. 

His heart is threatening to beat straight out of his chest. 

“Iwa-chan! Iwa-chan! _Hajime_!” He cries as he shakes Iwaizumi’s shoulder as gently as possible, scared out of his mind and breath wheezing out in short bursts. “Hajime, you gotta wake up, okay? H-Hajime, it’s me. It’s Tooru. I really need you to open your eyes. _Please_ , you really need to wake up!”

Oikawa startles when he catches movement behind closed eyelids. He doesn’t breathe as Iwaizumi flinches and stirs slightly, before giving a long groan and then, “ _Fuck._ ” 

Oikawa exhales in relief. He has never been more overjoyed to hear his best friend curse.

Iwaizumi slowly uncurls from a fetal position. Makki helps him sit up and Kyoutani stands and starts growling at the spectators to “Get the fuck outta here,” scaring them into dispersing. 

Oikawa can’t seem to stop his short, stuttering breaths, no matter how hard he tries. In a moment fueled purely by leftover adrenaline and panic, he presses his face into the side of Iwaizumi’s neck, breathing him in and letting his friend’s warm skin calm his own racing heart. 

He hears Makki ask, “Hey, buddy, how do you feel? Anything broken?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head, but winces and immediately lets out another long groan. Shoulders tensed with pain, he curls in closer to Oikawa and confusedly lifts a finger to poke at the cut on his head. He only ends up smearing some of the blood around.

“Hey hey hey, don’t touch that. What’s my name? Iwaizumi, look at me and tell me what my name is,” Makki asks, gently pulling Iwaizumi’s wrist away from his head.

“Makki, now isn’t the time for your shit,” Oikawa growls, untucking his face from Iwaizumi’s neck and shooting a frustrated glare at Makki. 

Kyoutani looks down at them, having finally forced everyone into dispersing. To Oikawa he says, “You’re an idiot. He’s checking to see if he has a concussion.”

_Oh_. That should’ve been obvious. He’s not thinking straight. Oikawa has seen his fair share of concussion scares. It’s part of playing sports. _Get your head on, Tooru! Iwa-chan needs your help right now!_

“Uh, sorry Makki. I should've realized,” he mutters in embarassment, but genuinely apologetic. Makki keeps his eyes focused on Iwaizumi, awaiting a response, but reaches over and ruffles Oikawa's hair reassuringly. 

“You’re Makki,” Iwaizumi finally says with a groan. 

“And who’s that?” Makki gestures to Oikawa. 

“Oikawa,” he replies.

“And that?” He gestures towards Iwaizumi’s feet. No one is there. 

“Dad?" Iwaizumi says without a beat. 

Kyoutani snorts. Oikawa thinks it might be the first time he’s ever heard him laugh. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. One joke. That’s it, I swear,” Makki says. “And I think you’re probably fine, but I’m not a doctor, so who knows.”

“He should go to the nurse. He’s pretty beat up,” Kyoutani rumbles, still standing guard over the little trio. 

Oikawa pulls back to look Iwaizumi in the eyes and nods in agreement. He places a hand on the side of Iwaizumi's head, using it to tilt his chin up. Oikawa examines his face closely. “He’s right, Iwa-chan. You don't look so good and we should at least get that cut looked at. Can you stand? Does anything hurt? Here, you can climb on my back.”

“I’m fine, Oikawa. Stop worrying about me,” Iwaizumi protests, shaking Oikawa's hand off, but as soon as he sees the hurt look on Oikawa’s face he relents. “Sorry. I actually feel like someone threw a brick at my face, but nothing feels broken. I can walk.”

Makki dashes up the staircase and grabs Iwaizumi’s backpack, textbook, and phone. He hands them to Oikawa, saying, “Kyoutani and I will go ahead to the teachers’ offices and make sure none of us get in trouble for missing class. Oikawa, can you take him to the nurse?”

Oikawa nods, not taking his eyes from Iwaizumi. The cut on his forehead is still bleeding.

“Thanks guys,” Iwaizumi says. The grin he shoots them is a little frightening since his face is so battered and bruised. Makki’s return smile is slightly worried and Kyoutani just frowns. 

“See you soon. And text me if anything comes up,” Makki says. Then they turnaround and walk down the hallway, whispering to each other. Kyoutani glances back at them one last time, brows furrowed with worry. 

Once they’re gone Oikawa places a hand on Iwaizumi’s knee and asks, “Are you sure you can you walk okay? What can I do to help?”

“I should be fine. Everything seems to be working.”

Oikawa stands and stretches out a hand. Iwaizumi takes it and lets himself be pulled up and they start traipsing slowly in the opposite direction of the other two. Oikawa tries to spy on Iwaizumi out of the corner of his eye, but he gets caught when he trips, not paying enough attention to where he’s going. 

“Really Oikawa, I’m fine. I’m just bruised…probably," Iwaizumi snorts. 

They continue along, the heavy silence only broken by the occasional pained grunt from Iwaizumi or a shaky exhale from Oikawa.

Eventually, Oikawa can’t take it anymore and he asks quietly, “What happened?”

Iwaizumi sighs. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you I fell, right?” 

Oikawa looks at him, unable to keep the fear out of his eyes.

Iwaizumi grimaces and looks down sheepishly. “All I can tell you is that Makki and I were heading to our next class and there were a lot of people around, like usual, so the steps were crowded. I was at the top and all of a sudden I felt a hand on my back. Whoever it was shoved me and I fell down the steps. I crashed into some people but luckily, they were able to mostly avoid me. I was the only one that ended up hurt.”

Oikawa opens his mouth to ask a question, but Iwaizumi cuts him off. “And I don’t know who did it. There were too many people around. Could’ve been anyone.”

Oikawa curses. 

“This doesn’t change anything. I still don’t want to get any teachers involved,” Iwaizumi insists, shooting him a look. 

“Why the fuck not!?” Oikawa has to keep himself from shouting. 

“It’s not a big deal.”

Oikawa struggles to lower his voice to an angry whisper. “It _is_ a big deal, Hajime. You could’ve been seriously hurt. This is the second incident. Someone is…is _bullying_ you.”

“It’s not bullying,” Iwaizumi protests. 

“Oh yeah, and if someone was doing this to me? Or to anyone on the volleyball team? What would you do then?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything. 

“That’s what I thought,” Oikawa says, fists clenched. Without thinking he grabs one of Iwaizumi’s hands, desperate to make his friend understand.

“Tooru, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to cause trouble for anyone.” He seems unfazed that Oikawa is holding his hand right now. 

Oikawa stops and turns to face him fully, eyes slightly damp as he hisses, “I’m so fucking pissed right now that I’m fucking crying. This isn’t right. It’s not fair. I want the fucker who did this expelled. But _fine_ , Iwa-chan! If you don’t want to tell anyone, _fine_! But you _have_ to give me some other way to help you! I won’t just sit here and fucking watch this happen!”

Iwaizumi pulls him into a firm hug. “Thanks,” he murmurs. 

Oikawa feels all the energy leave his body and he sags into Iwaizumi’s arms. “What can I do? _Please_ let me help you,” he begs as he circles his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist. 

“You’re doing just fine. Don’t stop being here, right next to me. That’s what you can do to help.” Iwaizumi pulls back, smiles sadly, and starts heading towards the nurse’s office again.

Oikawa is left shuffling after him, wiping his tears and feeling helpless. 

______________

The nurse checks Iwaizumi and cleans up his face. He ends up with a couple bandaids plastered over his cuts and is left feeling like he’s seven again. The worst injury was the gash on his forehead, but she’d disinfected it and taped some gauze over the wound, telling him it should heal up nicely. 

Iwaizumi is only a little disappointed. He kind of thinks a scar on his forehead would be cool, kind of badass…

He awkwardly thanks the nurse, but before he can leave, she says, “And send your friend in now.”

“Oh, uh, no, Oikawa’s fine. He didn’t get hurt. He was just helping me get here.”

“I don’t think so. He’s white as a sheet and looks like he’s about to have a panic attack. I only saw you first because I was worried about head trauma. Send him in. Poor boy looks like he just saw a ghost.”

Iwaizumi steps into the hallway where Oikawa is waiting for him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Uh, she said you should go in now.”

Oikawa just nods numbly and shuffles past, eyes to the ground. Iwaizumi thinks maybe the nurse knows what she’s talking about after all. Oikawa _is_ really white and he’s moving sluggishly.

Iwaizumi waits. Oikawa is in there longer than he was, but when he steps out, he looks a bit better, if still pale. The nurse pokes her head out, looks at Iwaizumi, points to Oikawa and orders, “Make sure this one eats lunch. It’ll help him feel a lot better.”

Iwaizumi resists the urge to say, “I always do.” Instead he looks at his best friend and asks, “Hey, you okay?” 

Oikawa gives him a half-smile, but there’s irritation in the tense set of his shoulders. Iwaizumi can also see plans and backup plans and _backup plans for the backup plans_ brewing behind those clever brown eyes. This is exactly what he was afraid of. He knows how to help Oikawa when he’s sad but is completely lost when he’s _plotting_. 

“Stop that,” Iwaizumi says with a frown. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. You’ve got to focus on school and volleyball and choosing a college. Not me.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Oikawa shoots back petulantly.

“Don’t I know it,” he replies with a sigh. He has a headache. It’s probably to be expected right now, but it gets worse when he sees the seething anger still lurking behind Oikawa’s eyes. He knows it’s not directed at him, but it's still frightening. 

Iwaizumi grabs his best friend’s slender wrist, “C’mon, let’s skip class. God knows we’ve earned it. We’ll come back in time for the second half of the day.”

He’s relieved when Oikawa nods, anger fading slightly. 

“We’ll go to lunch. My treat,” Iwaizumi says, aiming to placate him. 

Oikawa’s shoulders slump and his anger disperses completely, but Iwaizumi discovers that the sadness left behind only serves to hurt him more.

Oikawa gives him a bittersweet smile. “Same place as usual?”

Iwaizumi nods and pulls the other along behind him, still holding his wrist. 

There’s a back exit that makes it a little too easy to sneak out. It’s usually locked, but in one of their more daring escapades, Mattsun and Makki stole a key from the office, made four copies, and returned the original, all over the course of a weekend training camp. 

Mattsun likes to talk about starting traditions and bequeathing the keys to Yahaba, Kyoutani, and Watari at the end of the year. 

There’s a quick tug and Oikawa pulls his wrist from Iwaizumi’s grasp. “But Iwa-chan! I’m not letting this go. You hear me?” Oikawa hisses. “If you aren’t going to take care of yourself, then _I’ll_ do it!”

Iwaizumi is slapped with a sense of deja vu. How many times has he said something similar to Oikawa before dragging him out of the gym, practice long since ended? How many times has he thought it as he anxiously waits for Oikawa after a doctor’s appointment? How many times has he seen Oikawa’s light on at 3:00 AM, crept in his window, and whispered it to him as they fell asleep together?

“Yeah, I know,” Iwaizumi replies in an even voice. His brain helpfully tacks on, _Because I sure as hell wouldn’t if it were you._

_________________

It’s one of those rare, winter days where they can actually feel the warmth of the sunshine. It bathes their rosy noses and cheeks, the only skin left uncovered after bundling up for their covert adventure. 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa walk next to each other, steps synced perfectly. Contrary to popular belief, Oikawa doesn’t fill every second with idle chatter. Iwaizumi knows, at heart, his best friend is an introvert who happens to be really good at acting like an extrovert. He excels at using that trait to his advantage, but he also really enjoys the quiet. Iwaizumi savors those moments, those times when he’s at his desk and Oikawa is on his bed, each absorbed in their own activities and no particular need for conversation. Simply content to be with each other. 

So he enjoys the quiet walk to their favorite ramen joint, the only sounds to interrupt their shared silence being Oikawa’s phone pinging with the occasional text or cars flying by. 

Oikawa seems lost in thought, so Iwaizumi nudges him and points. “Hey, we’re here.”

The ramshackle hideaway is tiny and easily missed, nestled among all the other convenience stores and apartment complexes in the area. However, the delicious smell of sizzling, spiced meat wafting out is how it attracts its customers. 

It’s a place Mattsun introduced them to, back in their first year at Seijoh. Later he’d confessed he’d invited them because he was having trouble making friends and his favorite uncle, who happened to be the owner, told him that the best way to get to know someone was by sharing a meal, preferably with alcohol. All four of the boys loved the food and Iwaizumi shudders to think about all the money he's spent here. However, no matter how many times they've tried persuading Mattsun's uncle, he still never gives them beer. 

The inside of the restaurant is cozy and warm, only room for about six people at the high, wooden counter. There’s two other people present, a businesswoman and what looks like a college student, typing away at his laptop. 

Iwaizumi and Oikawa hop up into the wooden barstools, looking around for Mattsun’s uncle. 

“He’s not in today, boys. Just me. You want the same as usual?” Mattsun’s oldest cousin, Yuna, pokes her head out of the kitchen. 

Oikawa greets her with his usual charm and confirms their orders. Once she withdrawals to the kitchen, he turns to Iwaizumi and starts chatting happily, much too carefree. 

Iwaizumi _knows_ Oikawa is good at keeping up appearances. However, sometimes it's still shocking when he finds it directed at him. He decides to let it go for now and Yuna returns with their meals.

“Extra pork in both,” she says as she slides their lunch across the table. “And tell Mattsun he still owes me a thousand yen. He swore on Makki’s grave that he wouldn’t get caught sneaking out last night, but we _all_ heard him. Even Obaasan,” she calls with a satisfied snicker before disappearing into the kitchen again.

“Oh hell yes, this looks amazing,” Oikawa mutters before shoveling food into his mouth. Iwaizumi moans happily, already on his second bite. 

He finishes first and pays for both of them, deciding to wait before he starts interrogating his friend. As Oikawa slurps down the last of his ramen, Iwaizumi notices that he looks a lot better now. There’s color back in his cheeks and his hands have finally stopped shaking.

“Hey, what are you planning?” He asks bluntly once Oikawa pushes away his bowl. 

It’s a tribute to their friendship that Oikawa doesn’t try to bullshit him. He shrugs and pokes his index fingers together before saying, “Right now I just want to find out who this asshole is.”

“What will you do when you know?” Because it’s not a matter of _if_ Oikawa finds the culprit, but _when._ He is relentless when there’s something he wants. 

Oikawa says nothing. 

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi pushes with a warning look. 

“Fine! I wanna talk to them, okay? Make them stop or whatever!" Oikawa grips the edge of the counter, his knuckles going white, before he continues, "And I didn’t want to tell you because I know you’ll make me swear not to do anything and that’s just a promise I don’t know if I can keep!”

Iwaizumi drops his head to the wooden bar and groans. 

“Iwa-chan, people eat there. Don’t put your face on the counter.”

He tilts his head to shoot Oikawa a withering look but sits up anyway. His best friend grabs a napkin, dips it into his water, and wipes Iwaizumi’s forehead clean of whatever grime he thought was on the counter in the first place. 

Iwaizumi watches those brown eyes narrow in concentration before Oikawa leans back and smiles weakly. 

Iwaizumi tries to ignore his heart rate picking up. It keeps doing this around Tooru _; the pull to give in, to just hand his heart over to Tooru, grows a little more every day. At some point, something is gonna give…_

He ignores his traitorous heart. 

Oikawa shifts uncomfortably as Iwaizumi maintains eye contact. His smile falters. With wide, pleading eyes, he begs, “Don’t make me promise that. Don’t make me promise to just sit back and do nothing, to not help you.”

“I’m not going to.”

Oikawa looks at him incredulously. Past him, Iwaizumi notices the college student has stopped typing and has his head tilted, listening. 

Iwaizumi leans forward and pulls Oikawa in close with a hand on his shoulder. A handful of inches separate their faces and he can see the different shades of brown in Tooru's eyes. The two of them probably look like they are conspiring. 

Iwaizumi, once again, ignores the fluttering of his heart and repeats, “I’m not going to make you do that-“ he holds out a pinky, offering it up to Oikawa, “-but you have to tell me as soon as you know something, okay? And don’t go off and do something dangerous by yourself. Promise me? _Pinky promise_ me this?”

Oikawa’s eyes widen and he blinks rapidly, but he wraps his pinky around Iwaizumi’s, much tighter than he really needs to. Then, for good measure, ( _because the universe is out to fuck with me_ , Iwaizumi thinks) Oikawa also rests their foreheads together.

“ _Pinky promise_ , Iwa-chan. I’ll tell you whatever I find out and I won’t do anything by myself. I don’t keep secrets from you,” he whispers. Hajime can feel his breath on his face. 

It’s not platonic at all and Iwaizumi wonders what Oikawa would break first if he leaned in just a little more and kissed his ramen-flavored mouth: his nose or his heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! <3  
> -Gari


	6. What to Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makki and Mattsun come up with a plan.

As they walk back to school, Iwaizumi hates the cold silence that settles over them like snow. The warm, familiar quiet they often enjoy has dissolved into awkwardness. 

But Iwaizumi can’t tell if he’s the only one that feels it or if Oikawa has noticed too. The other boy seems to be lost in thought. 

He’s also not sure if the reason their hands keep bumping is his fault or Oikawa’s. It’s really distracting and he trips _twice_ , Oikawa giving him a steady hand and a weird look both times. 

Iwaizumi can’t help but notice that Oikawa’s hand is _warm_ and his skin is _soft._ It’s making Iwaizumi _really_ want to push his best friend up against a wall and find out what that pale throat looks like after Iwaizumi has decorated it in harsh bites and soothing kisses.

But he keeps silent and ignores his discomfort. Oikawa still looks like he’s completely lost in his own head.

Once they get back to Aoba Johsai, Iwaizumi watches Oikawa struggle to free a textbook from his locker and tries to think of a tactful way to remind his best friend their promise. The _pinky promise_. He’s worried. Oikawa can be impulsive, especially where his friends are concerned.

Still stuggling, Oikawa huffs, “Iwa-chan, you know, you _could_ help me with this.” He gives up, tossing his hands in the air with frustration. Instead, he seems to decide that a better use of his time is to lick his finger and stick it in Iwaizumi’s ear. 

Iwaizumi ducks with a yelp and feels the awkward air from earlier suddenly dissipate. He’s left wondering if he was only imagining it in the first place. _Is this crush (okay, not a crush, definitely full-on love) making me paranoid?_ _Maybe I’m just distracted…_

He lets out a laugh, partly at Oikawa, partly in relief, and replies lightly, “But watching you struggle with that book has been the most entertaining part of my day.”

Oikawa shoots him a scathing glare and threatens, false sweetness lacing his tone, “I’m gonna kill your whole family.

“Ha! If I was an orphan, the first thing your mom would do is adopt me,” Iwaizumi tells him, pushing Oikawa’s locker door shut as soon he's collected what he needs.

Oikawa wrinkles his nose. “Too true. She’s always saying you’d make a good, obedient son.”

Iwaizumi smirks. “That’s not what she was saying last night when she and I were-“

Oikawa shoves a hand over his mouth, but he’s laughing. “Iwa-chan! Bad!”

Someone bumps shoulders with Oikawa and Mattsun interrupts them. He stares at Iwaizumi, carefully examining him before saying, “Dude, I heard about what happened! How are you feeling?” 

Iwaizumi pulls the hand from his mouth and says, “I’m dead inside.”

Mattsun barks a laugh. “So, business as usual then?”

“Um, _no_ ,” Oikawa interjects. “ _Not_ business as usual. Someone wants to hurt Iwa-chan!”

“Yeah, Makki mentioned that. I think he’s working on something. Shit-” he checks his phone and starts backing away, “I gotta get to class!” 

Oikawa tries to stop him, but he's already too far. Instead, he hollers, “Hey! What’s Makki working on?” 

Mattsun glances over his shoulder, but he just waves and shouts, “Get to class, boys! And stop fighting over your single brain cell. It’s Oikawa’s turn with it.”

Oikawa's shoulders tense slightly, but he just turns back to Iwaizumi and says cheerfully, “Nice! Mom said it’s my turn to use the brain cell!” He also pokes him in the side, but immediately pulls away when he sees Iwaizumi wince with pain.

What Iwaizumi really wants is to find a nice couch sleep on. The cut on his forehead throbs. 

Oikawa is looking at him in distress. 

“It’s okay,” Iwaizumi soothes quickly. “I’m just a little sore. I’ve got bruises all over. I’m fine.”

“You should go home.”

“It’s not that bad. The nurse even said it was just some bruising. I’ve gotten worse from volleyball practice,” Iwaizumi snorts, pulling out his phone to check the time. “Mattsun is right though. We’re gonna be late.”

Oikawa looks like he wants to protest, but Iwaizumi shoots him a stubborn look, silencing him.

Instead, Oikawa groans and says, “Time for the English language to beat me over the head with a plastic bag full of hot, meaty poop.” 

“That’s disgusting. Maybe focus in class for once instead of coming up with metaphors that make everyone around you uncomfortable,” Iwaizumi says firmly. 

“Iwa-chan are you my mom?”

“No, but last night _your_ mom said I could be your dad-“

Oikawa swiftly kicks him in the shin, squawks “Go to class and learn to be a civilized member of society,” before stalking away, leaving Iwaizumi laughing and rubbing his ankle in the hallway.

_He really hopes Oikawa won’t take this too far…_

____________

_I would commit arson for Iwa-chan,_ Oikawa thinks to himself during his English class, _maybe even murder…_ premeditated _murder._

Underneath his desk, he pulls out his phone and checks to see if any of the second years have texted him back. As soon as Iwaizumi had given him permission, Oikawa had leapt headfirst into his investigation. 

_Operation Protect Iwa-chan Because My Best Friend is Really Stubborn and Refuses to Help Himself. Also I’m In Love with Him So That Makes Me Want to Protect Him Even More…_

He needs to come up with a better name.

He’d asked Yahaba, Kyoutani, and Watari to see if they could dig up anything suspicious on Miyu. They’d agreed, but Yahaba insisted it was unlikely, given that Miyu was “ _levelheaded”_ and “ _actually pretty cool_.” Oikawa tried to ignore the flicker of jealousy when he’d also said: _She’s kinda quiet, but Iwaizumi-san would probably like her a lot._

Watari, ever the instigator, had countered that it’s often the quiet ones who end up scaring you the most, citing Kunimi as an example. 

Kyoutani replied with a thumbs up and then a knife emoji. Oikawa still isn’t sure what to make of that. Iwaizumi was always better at reading him. 

His phone buzzes with a text and he’s surprised to find it’s from Makki, not one of the second years. 

_From Peepee-Poopoo-Makki: What’s Miyu’s family name?_

_From You: I don’t know. Why?_

_From Peepee-Poopoo-Makki: There’s a guy in my class who has a younger sister that also goes to Seijoh. His name Yamashita Kaito. I didn’t really think anything of it until now, but he’s been giving me weird vibes lately. He’s a bit of a jock and is usually a huge dick to our teacher, but he’s been kinda…brooding the last few days, like way quieter than usual._

_From You: Let me ask the second years…_

Oikawa taps out a text to Yahaba, Watari, and Kyoutani. His hands shake minutely. 

_From You: Can you tell me what Miyu’s family name is?_

_From Watari: uh, Yamashita, I think?_

_From Kyoutani: yeah, she’s in my class right now. She says that’s her family name._

_From Yahaba: Oh my god. Did you just ask her? In class? Right now? Like directly to her face? Isn’t this supposed to be a secret???_

_From Kyoutani: she was right there, so I figured why not! What did I do wrong?????????_

_From Watari: sweet boi, you did nothing wrong._

_Yahaba is typing…_

_Kyoutani is typing…_

_Watari is typing…_

Oikawa mutes the conversation and stuffs his phone into his pocket. He forgets to text Makki back. 

He bounces his leg up and down so vigorously that the guy in front of him turns around and says, “Dude, can you please stop? You’re shaking the whole row.”

“Uh, what? Sure, whatever.” Oikawa wasn’t really listening to his question. 

The guy rolls his eyes and turns back around. 

Oikawa passes the rest of the class deep in thought, bouncing his leg, and wondering why the guy in front of him keeps letting out these really annoyed, passive-aggressive sighs. 

Once the bell _finally_ rings, he haphazardly shoves things into his bag. He completely misses the way all his classmates jolt to a stop and throw him an odd look before exiting into the hallway. 

He stands and makes his way out, wondering, _what’s next? I promised to tell Iwa-chan what I discovered…If we think there’s even a chance this Kaito guy is the culprit, Iwa-chan deserves to know…But what if I tell him and he makes me promise to do nothing? What if-_

Stepping into the hallway, he sees Mattsun and Makki wearing identical scowls, each holding half of a poster that reads, “Ask Me How Oikawa Tooru, Captain of the Seijoh Volleyball Team, Fucked Me Right in the Ass.”

“What?” is all Tooru asks them in a tired voice. 

He hears footsteps coming and both Makki and Mattsun shove the poster behind them just as Oikawa’s teacher exits the classroom. 

“You didn’t text me back,” Makki accuses once she’s gone. “I thought you went off and did something really stupid and impulsive.”

_Whoops_.

“Sorry, I was thinking about Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighs, rubbing his face. 

“We know,” Mattsun says at the same time Makki grumbles, “You always are.”

“We want to help,” Makki continues. “Was I right? Is Yamashita her family name?”

Oikawa nods. 

“Okay, so you’re gonna come up with a plan now, right?”

“I-I don’t know,” he responds, swiping a jittery hand though his hair. “I promised Iwa-chan I would tell him what I found out, but he also made me promise not do anything stupid on my own. And I know he’s not gonna want to do anything. He keeps saying he doesn’t want the attention.” Oikawa shrugs in defeat. 

“There you have it then,” Mattsun says, a conniving smirk on his face. When he’s met with blank looks he elaborates, “Tell Iwaizumi what we just found out. Then Makki and I will make a plan and the three of us can go handle this together. That way, _you_ won’t be doing anything stupid _alone_ and if Iwaizumi is mad at anyone, it can be me and Makki, because _we_ were the ones that _planned_ everything. You were just an innocent bystander and never did a thing wrong!”

“That’s a juicy power move, dude,” Makki says, a matching grin spreading onto his face.

Oikawa mumbles something under his breath and looks at his shoes. 

“What was that?” Mattsun asks, leaning forward.

Oikawa mumbles to the ground again. 

Makki’s eyebrows almost rise into his hairline. “Dude, spit it out.”

“ _I said_ I’m not good at lying to Iwa-chan!” Oikawa cries in a rush. Then he pouts and refuses to make eye contact. 

After a moment, Mattsun wraps an arm around his shoulders and Makki jumps in to tuck an arm securely around his waist. Oikawa can’t escape as he’s lead down the hall, tightly smushed between the two of them. 

“It’s not lying per se,” Mattsun explains with a nonchalant wave of his arm. “It’s more like… _misguiding_ him, neglecting to tell the whole story.”

“He’ll get mad,” Oikawa insists. 

“Let him get mad at me and Mattsun then. We can handle it.” Makki’s smirk scares him.

Oikawa huffs and pleads, “I really don’t like it. Can I _pleeeeease_ just tell Iwa-chan? Maybe he’ll change his mind and want to help too!” 

From behind them, a familiar voice says, “Tell me what?”

The three boys whirl around. Oikawa almost trips, still held prisoner between Makki and Mattsun. 

Iwaizumi stands there, bruises covering his face and gauze on his forehead, but still wearing his characteristic frown. 

“You have spectacular timing,” Makki says, a dead look on his face. 

Iwaizumi crosses his arms. “Well now I _need_ to know. What are you two making Oikawa hide from me?” 

Makki and Mattsun shuffle awkwardly as he waits. Using only his eyes, Oikawa tries to tell Iwaizumi he needs saving. 

It works.

Oikawa shivers in delight when Iwaizumi grabs his wrist and pulls, freeing him from his captivity in between Makki and Mattsun. Iwaizumi wraps a protective arm around his waist and presses him securely to his side. Oikawa is in heaven. 

“They’re bad influences, Iwa-chan. Just evil. I need your protection!” Oikawa gives Iwaizumi a helpless look and presses closer into his side. 

Once Iwaizumi turns his scowl on Makki and Mattsun, Oikawa shoots them an absolutely evil smirk. It’s the same expression he always has before performing a devastating service ace. 

“You two deserve each other,” Mattsun says. Then he grabs Makki’s wrist and pulls him along down the hall. 

Iwaizumi watches them go; Oikawa still tucked into his side. 

“Uh, does that say, “ _Ask Me How Oikawa Tooru, Captain of the Seijoh Volleyball Team, Fucked Me Right in the Ass?”_

Oikawa rests his cheek on Iwaizumi’s broad shoulder and says, “I don’t know, Iwa-chan. I can’t read.”

_______________

Before they part ways, Iwaizumi makes Oikawa _promise again_ to explain everything after school. Oikawa readily agrees and Iwaizumi’s honestly a little surprised that he’s so willing to disclose _whatever_ it was Makki and Mattsun had wanted to keep secret. But his friend just nods and looks a little ashamed.

It leaves a sick feeling in Iwaizumi’s stomach for the rest of the day. 

_______________

After school, Iwaizumi hunts Oikawa down and drags him to a secluded corner in the courtyard.

His best friend immediately slumps down, knees to his chest and back up against the building, eyes looking everywhere but at Iwaizumi. 

_He’s nervous,_ Iwaizumi realizes. 

“Tooru, I’m not mad at you,” he explains and Oikawa visibly deflates. He presses his forehead into his knees and sighs deeply. 

His voice is muffled when he says, "I was worried Iwa-chan might be mad that I had kept something from him."

"But you didn't hide anything from me. You're about to explain it all, right?"

When Oikawa looks back up, there’s more of his usual confidence in his eyes and he nods. "I'm not hiding anything. I'm gonna explain. I'm just worrying about your reaction. I'm worried you still won't want to do anything about this." 

Iwaizumi doesn't answer, because Oikawa is probably right. Iwaizumi doesn't need the attention and he doesn't want it. He honestly doesn't see what the big deal is. _He's totally fine!_ He fell down the stairs. Someone touched his stuff. That's normal for high school, right? What's there to possibly worry about? 

Even as he tells himself that, he has to ignore the way his hands shake slightly. 

Oikawa stares at him hard and slightly suspicious, but after a moment he starts to talk in a soft voice. He keeps it low so it doesn't echo about the courtyard. It's cold enough that they are the only two people out here. Iwaizumi notices Oikawa shiver and immediately wishes he had brought his coat, even if it was only to give to Oikawa. 

Instead, Iwaizumi listens. Well, he listens and paces, shaky hands shoved deep in his pockets. 

“-and then, Kyoutani just straight up asked her what her last name was and she said Yamashita! Then, after I left class, Mattsun and Makki ambushed me and wanted to come up with a plan, but I started to feel bad because we were leaving you in the dark and I knew you would get mad-“ in a really tiny voice he adds “-and I don’t like it when Iwa-chan is made at me.” Then he trails off and looks up at Iwaizumi before continuing, "And we don't even know if it really is this Kaito guy, but it _could_ be. So now I'm just trying to figure out what to do next."

Iwaizumi stops pacing and slumps heavily on the ground next to Oikawa. He pulls up a handful of grass and fiddles with it.

“Thanks for telling me. I know you would’ve told me anyway, even if I hadn’t stumbled upon you guys earlier, but, uh, thanks for not hiding anything,” Iwaizumi explains after a moment, still playing with the grass in his hands. He looks over and notices Oikawa closely watching them too, eyes trailing the way his fingers twist the blades of grass, the way he lets them flutter to the ground, before yanking up another fistful. 

He sprinkles a handful of grass over Oikawa’s knee to grab his attention. 

The other boy finally looks up and murmurs, “Best friends don’t lie. You told me that. Remember?” Oikawa sounds tired. 

Iwaizumi really wishes he could bundle his best friend into his arms right now, keep him warm, tell him it's all okay. Instead he has to settle for replying, “Yeah.” 

“Don’t be mad at Makki and Mattsun,” Oikawa continues. 

“I’m not. They’re dumbasses, but they were just trying to help. But just because Miyu has a suspicious older brother named Kaito, doesn’t mean he’s the one who pushed me down the stairs and destroyed the trophy y-you made me.”

He can’t keep the hurt from his voice when he mentions the broken trophy. His heart still aches at the thought of it, at home in pieces, a leg still missing.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa calls in a soft voice. Iwaizumi can hear all the questions he wants to ask, but leaves unsaid: W _hy didn’t you tell me kept it? Why was it important enough to keep at school? What am I missing?_ And Iwaizumi could reply. It would be so easy to tell him that the missing puzzle piece is that he’s in _love with Oikawa_. But then he’d have to watch Oikawa look at him sadly and he would probably start distancing himself and-

Oikawa nudges him with his shoulder and Iwaizumi now sees all those same questions reflected in his eyes, in the tiny furrow between his eyebrows, and the confused tilt of his lips. 

Iwaizumi slumps against the wall, suddenly exhausted. He closes his eyes and says, “You want to know about the trophy.” 

It’s not a question. 

“Only if _you_ want me to know about the trophy.” 

He can tell Oikawa is watching him, but he keeps his eyes pressed shut. Seeing Tooru's brown eyes right now, when he’s this vulnerable, might be enough to make him spill everything. 

“I _want_ you to know. The trophy…it’s…it’s really important to me.” Iwaizumi struggles for words, trying to keep the line between “friends” and “maybe something more” as distinct as possible.

Oikawa had tried his damndest to blur that line a long time ago.

Iwaizumi opens his eyes and focuses on the blades of grass in his hands. “I meant it. I meant what I said, way back then. I’m not a liar and I’m not going to find another best friend. I only need you. Just you. That’s…I guess that’s why that silly thing is so important to me. Every time I see it, I’m reminded that I’m not the only one who feels that way. I’m not the only one that thinks ‘just you.’” He pauses for a moment then says with a snort, “Sorry, was that too much? You’re always telling me that I’m secretly a huge softie.”

He hears sniffles beside him. “Oi! Are you crying? Haven’t we both cried enough already!?”

Oikawa hastily wipes at his eyes and sobs, “I’m _really_ _really_ sorry, Iwa-chan. I don’t have any brilliant ideas this time. I’m not gonna sprint home and come back with something to prove to you how important you are to me. I have no idea what to do right now. I hope you know what to do next, because I'm so confused. Tell me what to do? Please?”

Iwaizumi wraps an arm around Oikawa’s shoulders and pulls him close. With a sigh, he says, “I don’t know what to do either. How about we go to volleyball practice?”

Tooru shakes against him before letting out a congested, sad snort of laughter. 

“Volleyball is always the answer,” Tooru replies, sporting a watery smile. Then he stands up, swipes the dirt from his pants and the tears from his face, and leans over Iwaizumi with an outstretched hand. “C’mon, let’s go practice.”

Iwaizumi grabs his hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and kudos if you liked this! They make me smile so much!  
> -Gari


	7. Hajime's Idiot Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi likes his friends a lot. One of them, he REALLY likes a lot. He still thinks they're all idiots.

After a night of restless dozing and nightmares featuring an unconscious Iwaizumi who, no matter how loudly they call his name, won’t wake up, Oikawa drags himself to Friday morning practice under a gray sky and a foggy landscape.

He waits for Iwaizumi at their usual spot in front of Kazuko-san’s home. The elderly woman has been their neighbor for as long as he can remember. Iwaizumi once told him he likes to meet in front of her house because her cat, Ryuji, always comes by to say hello. Oikawa’s been in a serious debate with himself for years over who’s cuter: Ryuji or Iwa-chan. 

He’s stifling a yawn as Ryuji butts against his leg, asking for scratches, when he hears a front door pound shut. The sound echoes down their quiet, foggy street.

With glazed eyes he watches Iwaizumi approach, a thermos of coffee in his hand. Oikawa notes they’re both sporting identical, bruised under-eye circles. He grunts by way of greeting and Iwaizumi wordlessly hands over his thermos. Oikawa drinks deeply, relishing the hot drink in this cold weather, while watching Iwa-chan scratch Ryuji’s soft, inky-black fur. 

Iwaizumi grumbles something.

“What did you say?” Oikawa asks him. 

“I _said_ , I wish I was a cat.”

“Uh, okay?”

After a moment, Iwaizumi elaborates, husky sleepiness still lacing his tone, “Cats don’t deal with all-" he vaguely waves a hand through the morning mist “-all this crap. They don’t need to worry about college, and the future, and other really annoying shit. They just nap and eat-”

“-And poop,” Oikawa interjects, as they start walking to school.

Iwaizumi nods lethargically in agreement. “Yes, and poop. They don’t have to go to school. They don’t have to fall in love. They don’t-“

Oikawa cuts him off again, “Fall in love?”

“Uh, what?” Iwaizumi says, rubbing at his eye then stretching his arms high above his head. He clearly woke up less than half an hour ago. 

“You said ‘fall in love.’ You said it like it’s something that’s bothering you, like, _currently_. As in _now_.”

“Huh?” Iwaizumi squints his puffy eyes at him in confusion. 

“Iwa-chan, you literally just said it.”

Iwaizumi yawns and doesn’t bother to cover it up. “Mmm, ’kawa, to be honest, in my head, I’m still back home, in bed, asleep, completely dead to this bitch of an Earth.”

“Ok, but are you in love with someone?” Oikawa needles him. This is important. 

Iwaizumi blinks at him in surprise and Oikawa watches the first signs of lucidity creep into those green eyes. 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi tells him. 

“Who is it?” Oikawa thinks his heart might burst. 

“Your mom.” Then Iwaizumi takes the thermos of coffee back from Oikawa and walks off.

Oikawa groans, “You suck, Iwa-chan,” before hurrying to catch up. 

He really wants to push for an answer, _a real answer_. This isn’t something he should be expected to just _let go._ But as he examines his weary best friend, Oikawa decides it might be a problem for another day. He’s trying to be exactly what Iwa-chan needs right now. And, at the moment, Iwa-chan definitely doesn’t need to be pestered about his love life. 

Iwaizumi yawns again and then winces as he rolls a shoulder. Oikawa eyes him as he shuffles his backpack off, swinging it around to wear backwards. It must’ve been hurting his bruises. Yesterday, when they had changed for practice, the deep, purple-gray aftermath of his fall littered the skin of his back, displayed for Oikawa to examine in horror. All he’d been able to do was watch Iwaizumi pop a couple painkillers and head to practice. 

Unfortunately, the bruises on his face aren’t faring any better. They’re especially stark this morning, beneath skin pale from exhaustion. Spotty and purple-black, they map his forehead, beneath his eye, and the very bottom of his chin. The forehead cut is uncovered and still slightly shiny, an ugly, dark red gash. It’s not bleeding, but Oikawa still doesn’t like the way it looks. If Iwaizumi unthinkingly scratched at his hairline, it might open up again.

“Hey,” Oikawa says before grabbing Iwaizumi’s wrist to bring him to a halt. 

The other boy just raises an eyebrow at him. 

“That cut, it still looks pretty bad. We should cover it up,” Oikawa explains. He starts rummaging through his backpack. “Hang on, I think I have a bandaid in here somewhere…Ah ha!” Oikawa holds up the bandage for Iwaizumi to see. 

He just shrugs tiredly and says, “Whatever, but you’re gonna have to do it.”

Oikawa happily unwraps the bandaid, savoring the way this new, unexpected, tired Iwa-chan allows others to take care of him. _And talks about wanting to be a cat…_

It’s really cute. If Oikawa wasn’t in love before, he definitely would be now. 

He steps into Iwaizumi’s space, sticking his tongue out as he carefully places the bandaid over the cut. He pats the edges down and then looks down at Iwaizumi’s eyes.

The other boy is watching him intently. Even though Iwaizumi’s eyelids are heavy with exhaustion, he stares at the little bit of tongue Oikawa has poking out of his mouth. He also doesn’t seem to realize that Oikawa has finished patching him up. 

Oikawa can’t stop himself from teasing, “You want me to kiss it better, too?” 

He cringes and a voice that sounds a lot like Iwaizumi’s echoes in his head, _Shut up, Shittykawa._

Green eyes widen and then flit away from Oikawa’s face. 

“Shaddup, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi mumbles before walking away, leaving Oikawa with a sense of deja vu. 

_That’s probably the best outcome I could’ve hoped for,_ he thinks. He hurries to catch up with his best friend, asking, “Didn’t sleep well?” 

Iwaizumi groans in response and shoots Oikawa a withering look. 

“Me neither. I kept having dreams about yesterday,” Oikawa replies lightly, trying to ease his own tension. It doesn’t work though, because he can see Iwaizumi process what he had said and _immediately_ blame himself.

“About me?” Iwaizumi frowns at his shoes.

“Yeah,” Oikawa murmurs, regretful he even brought it up. 

“Sorry.”

“S’not your fault.”

“Logically, yeah, I know that, but…I don’t know…Uh, here-” Iwaizumi hands over the coffee again.

Oikawa takes a deep swig and gives the thermos back, ignoring both Iwaizumi’s warm fingers brushing against his and the phrase “indirect kiss,” bouncing around his head like a rogue volleyball. 

“You should finish it,” Oikawa tells Iwaizumi. “You’re just as tired as I am. You ate breakfast today, right?”

Iwaizumi nods and Oikawa sighs, “Well, at least that’s something.”

Iwaizumi laughs for the first time that morning. “You’ll make a great mom someday, Oikawa.”

Oikawa just snorts in response, watching Hajime’s throat bob as he finishes the last of the coffee. 

Traipsing through the dense fog, they end up hearing the early morning noises of Aoba Johsai before they can see the school. The familiar squeak of sneakers on shiny wood floors and the echoing bounces of volleyballs fill the damp, misty air. They both wave a tired hello to the track team as they jog past. In the distance, Oikawa hears the shrill whistle of a coach, probably from the girls basketball team.

The activity finally starts to wake him up from his early morning trance and he’s able to greet his teammates in the gym with a smile. 

However, Oikawa doesn’t notice anything unusual until Yahaba jogs up to him and points out, “Makki and Mattsun aren’t here.”

A quick scan of the gym confirms that he is correct.

And Oikawa is immediately suspicious. 

He surreptitiously waves Iwaizumi over to him and Yahaba. Draping an arm over each of their shoulders, he pulls them all into a little huddle. 

“Where’s Makki and Mattsun?” he hisses to Iwaizumi. 

“How the hell should I know?” His friend manages through a yawn that he doesn’t bother to cover. Oikawa hates the way he _doesn’t_ hate Iwaizumi’s coffee breath. 

“They didn’t mention anything about skipping today?” Yahaba asks. 

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “No, they were perfectly fine yesterday.” 

“They didn’t mention anything to me either,” Kunimi whispers. 

Oikawa jumps. “When the fuck did you even get here?”

Kunimi shrugs, having somehow wheedled his way in between Yahaba and Iwaizumi. “You aren’t being very inconspicuous. You looked like you were sharing secrets. I was curious,” he tells them, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

A passing Watari, much too awake for this time of day, pipes up, “ _Oooh_! Secrets? I like secrets too! Here’s one! Did you know Yahaba is half-vegan!”

Yahaba throws a volleyball at his best friend.

“What’s goin’ on?” Kyoutani says, shuffling over. 

Oikawa gives up. “ _Oh my god_ , nothing is happening! Everyone back to practice.” He shoos them back to the court, towards a very lonely looking Kindaichi who is practicing serves by himself.

They disperse, Kunimi bringing up the rear behind Watari, asking him, “What’s a vegan?”

Oikawa watches them leave and sighs, “They’re not the smartest bunch…”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Iwaizumi says from his place next to him. _Always always always next to him._

Oikawa just sighs again and walks away, scooping up an errant volleyball to set to Kindaichi. 

Practice is normal, or as normal as it can get when you put a group of high school boys in a room and tell them to hit some balls, until Makki and Mattsun stumble in, red-faced and gasping for breath, twenty minutes late. 

“About damn time. Where were you guys?” Iwaizumi asks, frowning. 

Makki waggles his eyebrows and says, “Havin’ sex.”

Mattsun blushes and cuffs his best friend on the back of the head. 

“ _Ouch_! Okay, okay. Not true. Sorry Mattsun. _I_ was having sex. Mattsun was studying the blade.”

Coach interrupts them with a sharp yell, “You two, go get changed! Then twenty laps for tardiness.”

Mattsun and Makki groan but manage to escape further questioning and  Oikawa is left thinking about them for the rest of practice. 

_They’re being weird, which is weirdly normal, but right now it’s a_ suspicious _sort of weird, which is_ not _weirdly normal…_

_What are they up to?_

_______________

For once in his life, Oikawa doesn’t end up buffeted about in one of Makki and Mattsun’s torrential storms of chaos. He does, however, find himself caught in the eye of it; a lone survivor, left to helplessly observe their lawless rampage to aid Iwaizumi.

It happens after practice. Kyoutani asks Iwaizumi to help him with a new block and, once again, Oikawa finds himself ambushed by Makki and Mattsun. This time in the locker room.

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” he says as he’s pushed down onto a secluded bench, away from their teammates changing around the corner. Makki shuts him up with a solemn shake of his head that Oikawa almost laughs at. Then he gestures for Mattsun to proceed, who dives straight into the matter at hand.

“So, we found out where Miyu and her brother live. Makki and I watched them leave their apartment for school this morning. Now, we don’t have _concrete_ proof that Kaito is the culprit, but Makki asked around yesterday and one of the members of the girls volleyball team said they saw him lingering around our locker room two nights ago. So, it’s possibly him, which I, personally, think is enough to go on at the moment. It’s not like we wanna beat him up- okay, well, if it _is_ him I _do_ wanna beat him up -but, if we just talk and find out it’s not him, then we move on, no harm done, yeah?”

He stops to give Oikawa a moment to process this information. Makki, however, doesn’t allow Oikawa such a kindness and takes the opportunity to lean over, hands on his hips, demanding, “Now are you _sure_ you don’t want to go confront him, just the three of us? I mean, at this point, it seems pretty likely that it’s him. What if he tries to hurt Iwaizumi again?” He raises his pink eyebrows in question.

Anger spikes through Oikawa. “Of course I want to confront him!” He bursts out, shooting to his feet and causing Makki to take a step back, eyes wide. Oikawa quickly lowers his voice to a frustrated whisper, “But I’m _not_ going to do that if Iwa-chan doesn’t want me to! Yeah, he’s being stupid, but I’m not gonna lie to him! And I’m not gonna go around his back! That’s not how our friendship works. We trust each other!”

Mattsun lets out a long agonizing groan and scrubs a hand through his black hair. His shoulders are tense, but he still manages to flash a half-smile as he sighs, “You’re a good friend, Tooru.”

Oikawa slumps back down to the bench, head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you guys, or even Iwa-chan for being a stubborn bastard. I’m just mad at…I don’t even know.” He waves his hand in the air helplessly. 

His brain takes this moment to remind him of Iwaizumi’s wish to be a cat. _Maybe Iwa-chan had been onto something…_

Makki and Mattsun drop heavily on either side of him, all three now slouched in a row, wallowing together in their frustration. 

“This fucking sucks,” Mattsun says.

The other two grunt in agreement. 

“Why’s he being so stubborn?” Makki asks. 

Oikawa shrugs. “I think he’s scared and doesn’t want to look weak. And you guys know how he hates being the center of attention.” He exhales, long and slow, then growls, “I just wish I knew how to _help_ him.”

With a small smile and a pat to Oikawa’s knee, Makki says, “Iwaizumi is lucky to have a friend like you. You should tell him how you feel.”

Oikawa gives a bark of sarcastic laughter. “You guys should work on reading the room. Now’s not really the time for jokes.”

“I’m not actually joking this time, dude. Just think about it.” Makki gets up, gives Oikawa a pointed look, and walks away. 

Mattsun watches him go. Oikawa watches Mattsun. 

“You should take his advice too.” Oikawa bumps their shoulders together. 

Mattsun looks at him, thick eyebrows raised in surprise, but then he smiles and it’s private and full of affection for Makki. “I will. Eventually. Or he’ll do it first. We’ve got plenty of time. We’re both idiots, but we’ll get ourselves sorted out. Quite frankly, I’m more worried about you and Iwaizumi,” Mattsun says with a shrug. 

“Being in love with your best friend sucks,” Oikawa sighs. 

“It’s not that bad,” Kunimi insists as he rounds the corner and joins them on the bench.

Oikawa lets him stay this time. 

__________

On his way out of the locker room, Oikawa accidentally kicks something. It skitters and clacks across the floor, before bumping to a stop against the wall. He pads down the empty hallway to investigate. 

He comes to a stop and curiously peers down at the object.

Oikawa lets loose a little huff of laughter. 

Grinning, he pockets the little plastic leg. Then, brushing tiny flakes of gold off the tips of his fingers, he heads to class.

___________

It’s Yahaba (again) who finally causes Oikawa’s suspicions to rise from “moderate” to “severe.”

Oikawa gives up on trying to wrestle with the contents of his locker, deciding he _probably_ won’t need his textbook for Math class, and shoves the door shut. 

“Hey, do you see that?” Yahaba’s voice comes from behind him. 

“It’s rude to sneak up on people, Yahaba,” Oikawa scolds. 

Yahaba is unfazed. 

“No. Do you see _that_?” He grabs Oikawa’s shoulder, forcibly turns him around, and points down the hall.

Oikawa tilts his head to the side once he sees _exactly_ what Yahaba is pointing at.

A trio of easily recognizable students is huddled just outside the entrance to the boys bathroom. 

“It’s been an odd week, but _that_ just might be the weirdest thing I’ve seen so far,” Yahaba tells him, eyes narrowed. 

Oikawa nods, watching Mattsun, Makki, and Kyoutani shuffle closer together as a student shoves past them into the bathroom, then returning to their animated, whispered conversation. 

They all look much too serious with their matching furrowed brows. Makki shifts his weight back and forth as he explains something, looking at Mattsun and gesturing to Kyoutani. Mattsun’s back is to them, but he keeps glancing over his shoulder furtively. Kyoutani looks, well…he looks pretty normal, Oikawa thinks. However, he’s actively listening to the other two boys, even complacently nodding along _in_ _agreement_! Which is definitely not normal for him. 

“Does this have anything to do with whatever is going on with Iwaizumi-san?” Yahaba asks without taking his eyes off their conspiring teammates.

Oikawa nods. 

“And you wanna tell me what that is?” Yahaba presses.

His question makes Oikawa look away from their three friends and turn to Yahaba in surprise. 

“Kyoutani didn’t tell you?”

Yahaba purses his lips. “He refused to say. I couldn’t get it out of him no matter how hard I tried and usually my methods are _very_ convincing. Finally, he told me it wasn’t his place to spill Iwaizumi’s secrets.”

Now Oikawa looks at Yahaba suspiciously. “You know, _Shigeru-chan_ , none of us know if you and Kyoutani are actually dating-“

“I’m gonna go see what’s going on,” Yahaba tells him, jaw set. 

He’s gone, stalking and ready for an ambush, before Oikawa can finish saying “- _and at this point we’re too afraid to ask._ ”

Unfortunately for Yahaba, Kyoutani either sees him or senses him coming. With wide eyes, he anxiously bats at Mattsun, who whirls around, sees a frowning Yahaba, and yelps “ _scatter boys_!” 

Makki and Mattsun break one direction and Kyoutani the other. Oikawa can’t say he’s surprised when Yahaba chooses to sprint after Kyoutani. 

As he heads to his next class, he realizes that neither Makki, Mattsun, nor Kyoutani had noticed _him_ observing them. They had only seen Yahaba…

__________

Iwaizumi is fully aware that, as vice-captain, he should have _some_ control over his teammates. However, watching Oikawa and Yahaba as _they_ , in turn, watch Makki, Mattsun, and Kyoutani, he wonders if maybe he never had any real authority to begin with. As much as he loves Oikawa and his team, they all like to nose their way into everyone else’s business. Yes, _even_ Kyoutani. 

Oikawa and Yahaba have matching tilts to their heads as they watch their teammates. It’s kind of scary how similar those two are. From the back like this, Iwaizumi thinks they could be mistaken for brothers. 

Mostly though, Iwaizumi is just left wondering _why_ Makki and Mattsun thought it would be a good idea to have a seemingly covert conversation on the floor where _all of the third years have class and only 30 feet from Iwaizumi’s own locker._ Did they think he wouldn’t see them?

Because Iwaizumi has no doubt in his mind that they are talking about him. 

He resists the urge to bang his head against the wall.

As he watches Yahaba sprint after Kyoutani, Iwaizumi remembers Oikawa’s older sister, years and years ago, taking it upon herself to bequeath a nugget of wisdom unto him and Tooru. She had very carefully explained to them that high-school boys are a rare, simpleminded breed all of their own and could very easily go extinct. 

Iwaizumi thinks about that a lot. 

He heads to his literature class, half expecting someone, most likely Yamashita Kaito, to jump him. It’s been like this all day. He can’t stop himself from glancing over his shoulder one more time. There’s no one there. 

He grips the handrail tightly every time he has to take the stairs.

It’s a nightmare. 

It’s _fine._ He’s _fine._

Iwaizumi settles at his desk, ready for a nap and extremely thankful that Takami-sensei can talk about _Pride & Prejudice_ for hours, no class participation necessary. 

He lets his eyes go hazy and unfocused as he tries to take a sad approximation of a nap. 

… _Tooru…_ his brain calls, luring him from sleep. 

Unfortunately, although he _is_ tired, he’s also stressed, and his dumbass brain determines Tooru as the more immediate concern. Big surprise. Iwaizumi resists the urge to slam his head into his desk. He can’t count how many nights his brain has decided to prioritize Tooru over sleep. 

His stupid brain cycles through the facts…again.

_Makki, Mattsun, and Kyoutani. Acting suspicious. Planning something? Unsure._

He moves on to the next topic: _Oikawa (and Yahaba) witnessed them talking (or planning) something, most likely about me. What would they be planning? Unsure. Oikawa knows they are planning something. Oikawa will be suspicious. Oikawa is the ultimate (over)thinker. Oikawa will want to find out what they are doing. Watching Oikawa equals discovering what Makki, Mattsun, and Kyoutani are hiding…_

_…so follow Oikawa?_

His brain proudly designates Oikawa as his primary target, like that’s some sort of actual fucking revelation. 

_Moron, Oikawa has been the primary target for the last 18 years…_

He wonders if being in love makes you do stupid things.

He probably should’ve paid more attention in literature class. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I named the cat after Ryuji from P5...
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> -Gari


	8. Tooru Makes a Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooru doesn't want to see Hajime get hurt again.

Iwaizumi is just shutting his locker door when Oikawa shows up, face pale and eyes wide.

“What? Tooru, what happened?” Iwaizumi asks, all thoughts of his next class forgotten as soon as he sees the panicked look on his best friend’s face. 

Oikawa just furtively glances over his shoulder, grabs Iwaizumi’s wrist, and pulls him down the hallway, stopping before a maintenance closet and shoving Iwaizumi in before closing the door behind them. He doesn’t let go of the door knob. Instead, he keeps both hands tightly grasped around it, fingers and knuckles straining. Hajime realizes that Oikawa is using all his strength to keep the door securely shut, scared that someone outside might try to enter. 

Nothing happens. No one jiggles the door knob or attempts to twist it, but Oikawa still remains frozen in place.

Their only source of light comes from the gap underneath the door. Oikawa’s eyes are intent on the shadows of footsteps that slip by. 

“Oikawa? Hey, Tooru,” Iwaizumi calls softly, much more worried about Oikawa than whatever it is his friend is frightened of. 

Oikawa jumps a little bit before focusing on him. His breaths are short. 

“I-I’m sorry. I just, I saw him and I-I panicked and it was probably fine, b-but I got scared-”

Iwaizumi places his hands on Oikawa’s shoulders. He’s shaking slightly. “Oikawa, breathe, okay? It’s fine. You’re fine.” He starts to rub his thumbs in soothing circles on Oikawa’s shoulders. 

Oikawa nods, eyes wide, but his anxiety seems to seep away as he listens to Iwaizumi, as he grounds himself with his touch. 

“Whoever you saw coming is long gone by now. This hallway isn’t very big. They probably didn’t even see us duck in here.”

Oikawa wets his lips and his eyes flit back to the light coming from underneath the door. “You’re…You’re right. I _know_ you’re right-”

“Hey, Tooru-” Iwaizumi snaps his fingers in Oikawa’s face “-look at me.”

His friend drags his eyes away from the little strip of light, back to Iwaizumi. Seeing his face knit with worry, seems to bring Oikawa back to himself. With a long, deep exhale, he leans his forehead on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. 

“Shit. I’m sorry. I saw him. I saw Kaito and I _know_ he wasn’t gonna do anything. Not right now, it would be too obvious. But I saw _you_ there and I saw _him_ coming and I just couldn’t stop myself. I panicked. Sorry, Iwa-chan. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey,” Iwaizumi calls softly. He tries to keep the affection out of it but fails miserably. A part of him is absurdly pleased that Oikawa was worried about him. 

“Oikawa, it’s okay. Understand? You didn’t do anything wrong. Why would I be upset that you were worrying about me? Hey, are you listening?”

Oikawa nods against his shoulder,“Yeah yeah yeah, I hear you.”

“Are you just saying that?” Iwaizumi pulls Oikawa into a hug. 

“Maybe,” Oikawa groans into his shirt. Iwaizumi thinks he might’ve left a wet spot on it with his mouth. _Gross, that’s gross Hajime. Don’t think about his wet mouth. Don’t think about it on your body…_

Iwaizumi wrenches himself from his inappropriate thoughts, reminds himself where he is, and rubs Oikawa’s back in a very _platonic_ manner. 

“I hate this,” Oikawa tells him, voice still muffled in Iwaizumi’s shirt. And for a second, Iwaizumi is _terrified_ that he’s talking about his affections. 

But Oikawa just huffs angrily and clarifies, “I hate that someone is out there _bullying_ you. I want to make it stop. I want to-to… _do_ something to him and that kind of scares me.”

Iwaizumi bites his lip and looks at Oikawa. He can’t help the cold fear from settling into his chest as he says, “You promised me you wouldn’t do anything by yourself. Tooru, you promised me, remember?”

Oikawa nods, but in a tiny, scared voice he says, “Iwa-chan, if he tries to hurt you again, if he _does_ hurt you again, I don’t know if I could…could stop myself. I would hurt him back, just to make him stop.”

“Then I’ll be there to stop you. I don’t want you getting hurt too. Stick with me, okay?”

Oikawa nods numbly with unfocused eyes. Iwaizumi flicks his forehead to get his attention and then pulls him closer. 

With Oikawa wrapped in his arms, Iwaizumi notices that it’s dark and peaceful in this little closet of theirs. That, in addition to Oikawa’s warm body pressed against him, makes him want to take a nap. He doesn’t even realize he’s nuzzled into the soft skin of Oikawa’s neck until the other boy stiffens in Iwaizumi’s arms. It lasts only for a split second, before Oikawa is relaxing and pressing his face into Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

Iwaizumi knows this is too intimate. And he knows Oikawa knows it too, but neither of them says anything. They’ve never been very good at keeping things strictly platonic. So Iwaizumi lets himself enjoy this while he can. Someday, hopefully very _very_ far in the future, someone else will steal this from him and he’ll only be left with these memories and the ghost of Tooru’s touches lingering on his body. 

As he breathes, he realizes that Tooru smells like home. This, too, will be taken from him one day. He feels tears prick the corner of his eyes but blinks them away rapidly. 

“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Oikawa says it so quietly that Iwaizumi almost doesn’t hear him. His heart floods with warmth. If they were actually a couple, this would be the perfect moment for a kiss. 

A lovesick pang brings Iwaizumi back to the present, to the knowledge that right now, it’s Oikawa who needs a little protection. As much as he is craving more of this warmth and intimacy, hugging here in this dark closet, Oikawa needs him. Iwaizumi shouldn’t be taking advantage of him like this. He needs to reassure his friend _with words_ that everything will be okay.

So, to ruin the moment, Iwaizumi blows a slobbery raspberry into the side of Oikawa’s neck. 

Oikawa jerks back with an indignant “Hey!” Staring Iwaizumi down, he blows a lock of floppy brown hair out of his eyes and huffs, “I’m really dealing with some shit here, asshole. The last time I really wanted to hit someone like this was back in middle school, with Tobio-chan. What if I lose control like that again?”

Iwaizumi smooths some hair of out Oikawa’s face. “You’re an idiot. Who was there to stop you from hitting Kageyama?”

Oikawa looks down and pouts. He doesn’t answer. 

“Oikawa, c’mon.”

“It was Iwa-chan.”

“Good boy. And what did I just tell you?” Iwaizumi immediately regrets it. It’s too dark to see if Oikawa is blushing. But Iwaizumi _thinks_ he might have felt him… _shiver_ when he said “good boy.” He kind of just let it slip out accidentally. _Oh god, why did I say that? I’m such an idiot…_

Oikawa’s voice brings him back to himself. It is slightly shaky as he replies, “You said you’d be there to make me stop.”

“Exactly,” Iwaizumi huffs, his cheeks warm. 

He tries to salvage the last of his dignity changing the subject. “Uh, It’s probably safe to leave. We’re going to be late for class, though. Hopefully it won’t be a big deal.”

Oikawa nods and sounds breathless when he says, “Y-Yeah, c’mon Iwa-chan. We should go.” He tentatively cracks the door open enough to peer out and make sure the coast is clear. With a sigh of relief, Oikawa lets the door swing completely open and the two boys are left blinking in the bright light, stumbling guiltily into the hallway and heading to class. 

____________________

Oikawa is only able to _finally_ shake off the absolutely chaotic inner turmoil caused by his stupid, dumb, awful best friend calling him a “good boy” by focusing on volleyball practice. Even then, he still feels a weird buzzing in his chest whenever his thoughts drift too closely to Iwa-chan. 

Or maybe it’s just always been like that with Iwa-chan…

Unfortunately, thoughts about Iwaizumi become increasingly hard to ignore when, after practice is over, Oikawa spots Makki, Mattsun, and Kyoutani conspiring _again_ in the corner of the locker room. 

Oikawa assumes they’re still planning to speak with Kaito, despite all his protests. He’ll probably have to talk them out of it again next week, but right now, he’s too tired to do anything. He just wants to walk home with Iwaizumi.

However, once Makki winks covertly at Kyoutani and breezes innocently out the locker room with Mattsun, and Kyoutani is left watching them go like a deer in the headlights, dread settles into Oikawa’s stomach. 

It’s today. Those three are planning to carry out their plan _tonight._ Not _soon_ , but _right fucking now_. Oikawa had less time than he thought. In fact, he had no time at all. 

Oikawa is frozen, trying to think of what to do. His thoughts are interrupted when, less than a ten seconds after Makki and Mattsun have left, Kyoutani stiffly loops his bag over his shoulder and just _looks_ at all of them, eyes shifting between each person. Finally, he stares at the ceiling, looking at it like he’s never seen anything more interesting, and splutters out, “W-well, I guess I’ll see you guys for practice tomorrow, uh, I mean next week. Okay? Uh, yeah, okay.”

Behind him Oikawa hears Kindaichi whisper nervously, “Is he, you know, _okay_?”

Shrugging, Kunimi answers him with, “Hard to say.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel better…” Kindaichi’s whisper trails off as Kyoutani starts to talk to the ceiling again and backing up towards the entrance of the locker room.

“Okay. Bye guys. Bye. Bye Yahaba. Love yo- I mean…never mind. Bye everyone.” He turns on his heels and sprints out. 

Iwaizumi comes up behind Oikawa, smothering his snickers with a hand over his mouth. There’s a slip of paper grasped tightly in his fist, but Iwaizumi doesn’t mention it, just says, “Well I guess that answers _that_ question, doesn’t it?”

Oikawa is still frozen. His brain is telling to _chase those three down._ For once in his life, he decides to listen. 

“Ha! Yeah Iwa-chan! Totally! But I better go too. I wanted to ask him something, ’kay?” He shoves his feet into sneakers and hastily ties them.

“Uh, yeah sure. Okay. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” His brows furrow as Iwaizumi fingers the scrap of paper in his hand

“Bye!” And with a hasty wave to his friend, Oikawa dashes out the locker room. 

Down the hall, he sees Kyoutani rounding a corner and hustles after him, hoping he’s doing the right thing.

_______________

Iwaizumi is left in the dust, bidding farewell to an empty spot and holding a note that has no signature, yet still manages to terrify him, nonetheless. 

“Uh, is _he_ okay? What is going on today?” Kindaichi frets. He looks to Iwaizumi for assurance. 

Kunimi answers for him, “Boys will be boys”

Iwaizumi thinks he hears Kindaichi mumbling to himself, “What does that even mean? Is _anyone_ okay? Am _I_ okay?”

Iwaizumi wants to stay and console him, but his heart is racing and urging him to run after Tooru. He shoots a meaningful look at Kunimi that just says, _handle this,_ and then dashes out. 

“Do you think stupidity is contagious?” Watari’s question echoes after him.

_______________

Oikawa follows Kyoutani and sees him meet up with Makki and Mattsun outside the school gate. He’s not close enough to hear what they are saying, but they walk in the direction of the nearest residential district. Makki keeps a close eye on his phone and directs the small group every time they come to a cross-section. 

_Fuck fuck fuck,_ echoes in Oikawa’s head. _How can I stop this?_

He knows exactly what he would do if he were to confront Kaito, but he’s completely lost when it comes to confronting _friends_. Frankly, that scares him so much more than facing down Kaito. However, even if he tried to talk with Makki, Mattsun, and Kyoutani, they might proceed anyway. He’s not their captain right now. They don’t need to listen to him. 

And a tiny part of Oikawa doesn’t want them to. They could put an end to all of this right now… 

He feels useless. _If Iwa-chan were here, he’d know what to do_. Iwaizumi is so dependable and strong and Oikawa doesn’t find anyone else’s presence more reassuring. Why shouldn’t he tell Iwa-chan what’s happening right now? He could help…

He shakes his head and slides his phone back into his pocket. Iwaizumi shouldn’t go near this guy. What if Kaito takes one look at him and lashes out. What if Iwa-chan gets hurt? What if he-

“Hey, this is it!” Mattsun’s voice is faint, but Oikawa sees him gesture at a building on the opposite side of the street. 

They all look up at a very plain, four-story apartment complex. There is a bright, colorful convenience store built into the first floor. Warm lights glow from the homes above, where lots of families are probably enjoying nice, hot, steaming dinners. Oikawa’s stomach grumbles and he shivers slightly in the chilly, night air. He crouches behind a trashcan and tries to hold his breath as he peeks over the top. 

Makki and Mattsun are looking up at the building, talking quietly with each other, and Kyoutani starts muttering hurriedly. Oikawa watches in confusion. 

Kyoutani seems to be muttering to…himself?

His voice quickly climbs in volume, grabbing Mattsun and Makki’s attention too. He simply repeats, “shit, fuck, goddamnit, shit, fuck, shit, fuck, oh fuck-“

Kyoutani stops as soon as Mattsun taps him on the arm, but his eyes remain focused on whatever is freaking him out. 

“Dude, what is it?” Makki asks, peering into Kyoutani’s face. 

Kyoutani points at something across the street. 

Oikawa snaps his neck around, expecting to see Kaito, maybe with a gun or a metal bat or a katana or a cannon instead-

It’s Yahaba, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, just watching them. All _four_ of them. 

As Mattsun and Makki freeze, Kyoutani _unfreezes._ With his head held high and back stiff, he crosses the street towards Yahaba. 

Oikawa can’t hear them, but they both start whispering animatedly to each other. Kyoutani gestures to the apartment complex which only serves to prompt Yahaba to point an accusing finger at Oikawa, still hiding behind the trashcans.

Kyoutani spins around, eyes wide. 

“You gotta be fucking me,” Oikawa hears him growl. Oikawa thinks maybe he could escape if he ran fast enough…

Kyoutani just grumbles, “Dude, come out. We know you’re there.” 

Oikawa stands. Makki and Mattsun scream. 

“Stop that!” Yahaba’s voice is so commanding. Oikawa thinks (hopes) maybe his underclassman has this under control. Yahaba can just send the other three home, right? Maybe Oikawa can leave now? He could still text Iwa-chan. They could go home and eat and lounge together all night. It would be warm and comfortable and Iwa-chan would probably smell nice because he'd just showered-

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Makki calls, frowning. Mattsun just looks up at the sky and exhales deeply, breath dissipating into the cold, night air. 

Oikawa decides Yahaba and Kyoutani are his better option and crosses the street towards them instead. 

“You followed us,” Kyoutani greets him, scowling. 

Oikawa feels his anger rise swiftly. “ _You_ were gonna confront Kaito after Iwa-chan specifically said not to! He doesn’t want any of us involved. I have no idea why _I’m_ the one that feels guilty right now. You guys are the ones that messed up here. _You_ should be the ones that feel bad, not me. Understand, _Mad Dog_?”

“Hey!” Yahaba’s voice is sharp and Oikawa jumps, unused to having his underclassman’s anger directed at _him_. “Don’t call him that,” Yahaba growls lowly. 

But Oikawa’s not going to back down, not about this, not about Hajime. 

(Although he does feel a little bad about calling Kyoutani “Mad Dog”…He hadn’t known it was a sore spot.)

Instead, he growls back, “Whatever. You guys need to go home. _Now_.”

“No.” 

Oikawa turns to see Makki coming up behind them, closely followed by Mattsun. 

“We should do this _now_. Since we’re all here. For Iwaizumi’s sake,” Makki explains.

Mattsun looks at Yahaba in confusion and asks, “How did you even know about all this?”

“Kentarou was being weirder than usual. I followed him. I was worried- You know what? It’s not important,” Yahaba says, shooting Kyoutani a smirk that is somehow also filled with affection. 

Kyoutani’s frown lessens for a moment, but it’s back as soon as he levels his piercing gaze on Oikawa. “I don’t know what you’re even worried about. We want to help make sure Iwaizumi-san is safe. Don’t you? We’re just talking to this guy. We aren’t here to hurt him. No one’s gonna start throwing punches.”

_But_ ** _I_** _might_ , Oikawa hears in his head. _Damn it, Hajime told me he’d be here if this happened!_

Kyoutani turns towards the apartment complex and Oikawa panics.

“I really think Iwa-chan should be here to have a say in this!” He cries out. 

He’s so _so_ frustrated and confused. What was the right thing to do for Iwa-chan? Him and Iwaizumi, they don’t hide stuff from each other, they don’t go behind each other’s backs, they don’t blatantly disregard what the other wants. They’re a team. They conquer things _together_. They _always_ have.

He’s suddenly reminded of Iwaizumi’s heartbroken expression as he’d cradled the remains of the trophy that a much younger Tooru had carefully crafted for him, so very long ago.

_This could all end now. We could confront this guy. Find out if it really is him who hurt Iwa-chan. Find out if he pushed him down the stairs, if he broke into his locker, if he destroyed his stuff. And if it is, we get him to stop. Then Iwa-chan is safe again. No more nightmares of him bloody and broken at the bottom of the stairs. No more nightmares where I can’t wake him up._

Yahaba takes pity on him. He rests a hand on Oikawa’s shoulder and says, “Oikawa, look, it’ll be alright. You can trust us. We can all tell you’re really worried about Iwaizumi-san. We are too. We aren’t doing this just to…to spite Iwaizumi-san or something like that. This is just talking. And if you and I are there, we can make sure it _stays_ a nice, calm chat with Kaito.”

Oikawa _knows_ he’s right, just like he _knows_ exactly why he’s been so resistant to this plan and every other plan that has gone against what Iwaizumi wanted. 

Yahaba continues, “Besides, Miyu-chan is also up there. She's my friend, too, and she’s not the sort to ask her brother to do this. She might be angry at him too for all we know.”

Oikawa scrubs a hand through his hair, desperately trying to figure out what the right thing to do was. _What’s safest for Iwa-chan? What does Iwa-chan want? Is what Iwa-chan wants even the safest option? Is it what’s best for him?_

Oikawa already knows the answer to each of those questions. He’s known the whole time. He hates what he’s about to do, but he also knows it's the right thing to do...probably. 

He carefully masks his face, looks at Yahaba, and says, “When did you learn to be so smart, Yahaba? And a leader, too?”

Yahaba scratches the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed. “From watching you, Oikawa-san. Isn’t that obvious?”

Oikawa looks around at each of his four friends, then up at the apartment complex looming behind them.

“I-I think, if Hajime were here, he would want us to stop and ignore the problem-” he bites his lip nervously, “-But, I’m actually really worried about him. And I’m scared that by doing nothing, like Iwa-chan wants, he’s going to get hurt. Really hurt. Someone is angry enough to harm him and I don’t think Iwa-chan is taking it seriously. I won’t watch him get hurt if I can do something about it. If he’s mad at me, I’ll just have to deal with that later. He and I can figure that out together, like we always do.” 

Oikawa takes a deep breath and then, mouth grim with determination, continues, “So, let’s go talk to this fucker.”

Makki, Mattsun, and Kyoutani all grin at him. Yahaba looks hesitant all of a sudden. 

“C’mon, second floor, apartment 206,” says Makki, leading the way with a wave of his arm. All five boys head towards their destination, Oikawa bringing up the rear. 

Once the others are no longer paying him much attention, Oikawa pulls out his phone and sends his location to “Iwa-chan<3.”

_______________

Iwaizumi didn’t need Oikawa’s location. He could _see_ him, hear him, right there, arguing with their friends. 

He wishes he could drag him back home, back to safety. 

Iwaizumi can feel his heart thumping away rapidly. However, looking down at his phone and seeing the notification Oikawa sent, calms him slightly. His best friend _wanted_ to be found. Oikawa didn’t want to keep things from him. He wasn’t hiding from him, not even now.

So Iwaizumi braces himself, remembers the menacing note he’d received less than an hour ago, and creeps after his five friends as they climb the stairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I love comments and kudos :)


	9. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tooru goes feral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a homophobic slur in this chapter. 
> 
> Also, this is now 12 chapters. This section got wayyyyyyyy too long so I had to break it up.

Before Mattsun knocks on the door reading “206,” he glances over his shoulder to briefly survey the huddle of boys behind him. 

“Do it,” Oikawa instructs firmly.

“You got it, Captain.” 

Mattsun lifts a hand to knock and adds, “Here we go boys. Tighten your pee-holes.”

He knocks sharply and the sound rings out, reverberating down the quiet street. The echoes fade and the only sound left is the winter wind whistling between buildings. Oikawa looks up at the starts glittering in the sky and is reminded of the glow-in-the-dark stars on Iwaizumi’s bedroom ceiling. 

Oikawa hangs at the back of the group, arms crossed and body stiff against the balcony wall. A bitter wind ruffles his air.

He knows this “talk” is the right thing to do, but at the same time he wishes Iwaizumi were here. He craves the balance that comes with Iwaizumi’s sturdy presence and is left hoping his best friend is on his way. Maybe there was still had a chance, however slim, of Iwaizumi getting here in time to…do what?

_Why do I need Iwa-chan here so badly?_

Oikawa tries to focus on the present. He recognizes the itch in the tips of his fingers and in the pit of his stomach and tries to convince himself that the feeling is fear.

_Calm down, Tooru. You need to stay_ **_calm_ ** _. Dammit. This would be easier if Iwa-chan were here. Don’t get angry. Don’t get angry. Don’t get-_

The door swings open and a warm light spills from a living room, washing over all five boys. 

“Uh, hi?” 

It’s Miyu. 

Yahaba pokes his head around Makki and greets her with an awkward wave, “Hey Miyu. These are my friends; Makki, Mattsun, Kyoutani, and Oikawa. We were kinda hoping we could talk to you for a sec-”

“Miyu, who is it?” A deep voice shouts from the depths of the apartment. 

“Just a couple classmates. Don’t worry about it, nii-san,” Miyu calls over her shoulder. Then she softly shuts the door behind her and steps out onto the landing.

“You’re all on the volleyball team with Yahaba,” she says quietly, eyes curious. 

Makki smiles reassuringly. “Yep. But actually, we’re here for your brother. Can we talk to him, please?” 

“Oh, that might, uh, n-not be the best idea,” Miyu stammers.

Yahaba pushes forward, telling Makki, “It’s probably best if we talk with her first,”

Then he turns to Miyu. “One of my other teammates, Iwaizumi-san, is being harassed by someone and we think it might have something to do with your brother. Do you think Kaito would ever do something like that?”

“What? No!”

“Not even if he thought he was protecting his little sister?” Kyoutani asks, watching her closely. 

Miyu hesitates. “Well, I don’t think so but-” 

The front door swings open behind her and she jumps. 

“Miyu, what the hell is going on?”

Kaito looms in front of them, confusion and annoyance plastered on his face. This time, Oikawa doesn’t panic when he sees him. 

_He can’t hurt Iwa-chan right now._

Kaito raises a thin eyebrow as soon as he sees the group outside his front door. His frame is backlit with the yellow light spilling from his apartment. It’s only now that Oikawa notices Kaito is both taller and broader than him. His gray t-shirt stretches tightly over his biceps and waist, showing off his muscles.

_…Not as big as Iwa-chan’s,_ his brain helpfully supplies.

“Sup’ my dude,” Makki says, exuding friendliness. “How you doing this fine evening?”

“Uh, okay? Wait, you’re that weird guy from my English class, right?” Kaito looks at Makki with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. He tosses a wave of black hair out of his eyes. 

“Actually, I’m in your Biology class, but no sweat. It’s all good. We’re actually just here to ask you a couple questions,” Makki replies, keeping his voice light. 

At this moment, Oikawa realizes he can’t bring himself to do what Makki is doing. He can’t fake the classic Oikawa smile, the one he uses to charm people into giving him exactly what he wants. He won’t wink or flash a peace sign to convince Kaito to spill his information. He won’t fake a breezy attitude. 

He’s furious. He’s also _certain_ this is the person he’s been looking for. 

It’s now that Oikawa’s struck with how lucky he is to have his friends with him. All four of them look perfectly composed and polite. It’s Oikawa who’s barely keeping his composure, barely containing the fire that’s been growing in his chest ever since he and Iwaizumi discovered the broken trophy. 

The feeling of gratitude for his friends soon gets swept away as that anger starts to heat up, creeping ever closer to a blaze. 

Kaito interrupts his thoughts. “Look, we’re kind of in the middle of dinner and I’ve got stuff I gotta do. Can’t this wait until school? I mean, I don’t even know-”

“I’m afraid not,” Mattsun cuts him off.

Kyoutani narrows his eyes suspiciously at Kaito and gets right to the point. His voice is a low rumble as he asks, “Do you know Iwaizumi Hajime?”

Kaito looks at Kyoutani like he’s something foul he just discovered on the bottom of his shoe and sneers, “What?”

“I asked if you know Iwaizumi Hajime. He’s run into some trouble this past week. Someone's been targeting him,” Kyoutani repeats. 

Kaito scoffs and glares at Kyoutani. “What the hell are you implying? Some angry asshole barges into _my_ home, asking _me_ questions, and I’m just supposed to go along with it?” He points a finger at Kyoutani. “I know who you are. I’ve heard the stories. So get out of my face and stay the hell away from me, you fuckin’ weirdo.”

Kyoutani doesn’t move and Kaito turns his gaze on Oikawa to say, “You’re the captain, right? Control your team. Or is everyone on the volleyball team an idiot? Do you purposefully recruit all of Seijoh’s losers?”

“Just answer the question,” Yahaba commands. He sounds calm, but Oikawa knows him well enough to detect a razor-sharp edge of fury in his voice. 

Kaito turns his glare on Yahaba and says, “Whatever. That guy, Iwaizumi, he’s on the volleyball team with you all, right?”

Mattsun nods and Kaito continues, “Never met him. He’s not the type to say much, keeps to himself. Kinda weird, if you ask me. I guess volleyball attracts the weirdos, the losers, the people with no other place to go-” His eyes briefly flit to Kyoutani, but then he fixes them on Oikawa and finishes with, " _-the assholes that make girls cry for fun_." 

_He’s lying. He’s lying. He’s lying,_ Oikawa’s brain screams at him like a siren. Everything starts to fade away. Everything but Kaito and his voice and his stupid fucking attitude. 

Kaito is still watching him, eyes glinting as if to say: _Your move._

The fire in Oikawa’s chest is spitting sparks, embers glowing red-hot.

“But I thought…” Miyu looks hesitantly at her older brother. He shoots her a sharp look and she mumbles, “Um, never mind.”

“Now get the hell away from me. And tell Iwaizumi and the rest of your fucking teammates to stay away from my sister,” Kaito sneers. An ugly, smug smile spreads on his face. From the proud set of his shoulders to eyes that bore into Oikawa’s, everything about him seems to boast: _I’ve won and you can’t do anything._

He has no idea he's only stoking the fire in Oikawa’s chest, heating it further. It flares into a blaze.

Kaito turns to leave and Oikawa feels his carefully crafted cloak of fear fall from his shoulders, going up in white-hot flames. Nothing is left to disguise the fury hiding in his chest. It rages free. 

He blazes into a vicious, unbridled inferno.

“ _Enough_.” 

Oikawa lets his voice pierce the night and enjoys the way every pair of eyes snap to him. He shoulders past his four friends and plants himself directly in front of Kaito, drawing up to his full height and forcing the taller boy to focus on him and no one else. 

He scrutinizes this asshole, this idiot who so ludicrously assumed he could snatch a victory from Oikawa’s own hands.

“ _Now_ ,” Oikawa drawls coldly, keeping all attention on himself and locking his own eyes with Kaito’s. “As much as I pity my peers destined to peak in high school, I believe our sweet Kaito-kun knows _exactly_ why we’re here, despite his, _ah_ , _disappointing_ lack of intelligence.”

Kaito angrily opens his mouth to retort, but Oikawa easily cuts him off with a scathing look and a single, raised eyebrow. He takes charge of the situation effortlessly. It’s no different than commanding the court. He lets the mantle of leadership settle on his shoulders once again, surprised he’d ever lost it in the first place.

Fear for Hajime had left him shaken and uncertain. 

He narrows his eyes at Kaito, allowing the other boy to glimpse a flicker of his fury.

As Kaito slowly shuts his mouth, Oikawa leans in and although he keeps his voice low and quiet, almost a purr, it only serves to emphasize the predatory, pitiless tone of his words.

“So _please_ ,” Oikawa continues, eyes cold and threatening, “My opinion of you is already _so_ _very_ low Kaito-kun, and I expect it will only get worse the longer I spend in your scintillating company. So, do yourself a favor and tell us, _did you hurt Iwaizumi?”_

“Dude, get the fuck out of my face,” Kaito growls, taking a step back. 

Unfazed, Oikawa smiles, thin and cold. In a voice dripping with false sweetness he says, “Hmm, wrong answer, Kaito-kun. _Although_ , I’m impressed that you have risen to meet my expectations. As a matter of fact, you’re _exceeding_ them. My opinion of you is sinking much _much_ faster than anticipated. But _,_ and I can hardly believe this myself, I _actually_ think it could sink even further. Now, let's try again, because this is _extremely_ personal for me. _Did you intentionally hurt my best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime_?”

Kaito bristles and Oikawa knows this boy finally sees him as a threat.

Kaito snaps, “What the actual fuck is wrong with you? I don’t give a shit about Iwaizumi.”

“Oh Kaito-kun, I’m so disappointed. This might’ve been more interesting if you could’ve convincingly lied to me,” Oikawa laments.

With a hasty, wide-eyed look at Oikawa, Yahaba steps in. “We thought you might be angry because Iwaizumi hurt Miyu’s feelings when he turned her down the other day.”

Not taking his eyes from Oikawa, Kaito goads, “Well _you_ thought wrong. And if Iwaizumi is the type of guy to be friends with pricks like you…” He trails off, letting his words hang in the air. When he finally continues his eyes glint maliciously, “Than _maybe_ he _does_ deserve to be pushed around a little. _Maybe_ someone should put him in his place.”

Seething, Oikawa growls out, “Maybe I should put _you_ in your place.”

Kaito just laughs and says, “You’re just a whiny little bitch, like all your other teammates.” He pokes a solid finger into the center of Oikawa’s chest and Oikawa harshly slaps his hand away. Kaito only snorts again before continuing, “There’s nothing someone like _you_ could do that would scare _me_. Now get the fuck away from me and my sister. And while you’re at it, tell your disgusting fag of a boyfriend to stay out of my way.” Then he uses both hands to shove Oikawa, sending him careening back into Makki and Mattsun. 

Mattsun catches him and quietly asks, “Whoa, Oikawa, are you alright?”

Oikawa ignores him and glares back at Kaito. He doesn’t think he could hate anyone more.

But then Kaito hammers the last nail into his own coffin.

“ _And enjoy your time playing volleyball with Iwaizumi while you can. It might not last forever_.”

An icy spike of terror lances up Oikawa’s spine. 

He shrugs off the hand Mattsun has on his arm and surges forward to plant himself back in front of Kaito. “And what the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?”

Kaito shrugs, looking bored. Oikawa tenses and he feels a hand wrap around his forearm, trying to pull him back towards the safety of his teammates. 

“Oikawa, not yet. Just wait,” Kyoutani’s voice rumbles low in his ear.

Oikawa ignores him too. 

“ _Explain_ ,” he commands menacingly to Kaito.

Surprisingly, it’s Miyu who speaks up. Fists trembling with either fear or anger, she quietly asks, “Kaito, what have you done?”

“Get inside, Miyu,” he orders her, not breaking eye contact with Oikawa. 

“Guys, maybe we should try this another time,” Yahaba suggests, voice sharp.

He’s ignored.

“Kaito, what have you done?” Miyu demands again, refusing to budge.

“I said get the _fuck_ inside,” Kaito snarls at his younger sister. She takes a step back in surprise but doesn’t leave. 

In the corner of his eye, Oikawa notices Yahaba shift slightly in front of her, placing himself between her and her older brother. The tight grasp Kyoutani has on his upper arm lessens as he, in turn, moves to put his body in front of Yahaba’s. 

Oikawa turns his attention back to Kaito.

Their eyes connect and neither moves. Oikawa has to keep his fists clenched at his sides to prevent him from doing the very thing Iwaizumi had promised to stop. He’s never experienced rage like this, not towards another person. 

Gritting his teeth and voice deadly quiet, he tries one more time. 

“Tell. Me. What. You. Did. To. Hajime.”

With a smirk and a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, Kaito says, “Some things just don’t last forever.”

Oikawa’s experiences tunnel vision, his brain screaming at him to make sure this boy never goes near Hajime or any of his teammates ever again. 

He listens to it.

Oikawa grabs Kaito’s shirt in his fists and shoves him against the rough concrete wall of the apartment complex. 

“Let go of me,” Kaito spits, struggling to push Oikawa off.

“Not until you fucking tell me what you did,” Oikawa growls back. It’s takes all his strength to keep Kaito pinned.

Kaito struggles and manages to shove Oikawa off him. Then he knees him in the stomach. Oikawa stumbles back and hunches over, ignoring the sharp cry behind him as he catches his breath. He barely notices Kaito reel back for another attack before his head jerks as he’s punched in the jaw. 

_Fuck, he’s strong…He’s_ _still got nothing on Iwa-chan,_ Oikawa thinks.

He spits out blood before launching himself back at Kaito, the sound of his friends calling his name and panicked shouts resounding behind him. 

Oikawa ignores them and sends himself and Kaito crashing into the concrete wall once again. As soon as Kaito’s back collides with the rough exterior, Oikawa swings a fist and punches him in the jaw. He thinks Kyoutani tries to grab his arm again but jerks away. Kaito wipes a smear of blood from his lip, wearing an expression that says he still thinks he has the upper hand. He smirks at Oikawa and rasps, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

He punches Oikawa in the face again.

With a growl, Oikawa slams Kaito back into the wall and drives his knee into his stomach. Kaito stumbles back, but returns to swing a fist at Oikawa’s head. Oikawa ducks and he misses. 

However, before he can throw another punch again, he hears-

“Tooru! Stop!”

Oikawa freezes.

Kaito does not. 

Oikawa sees another fist coming and knows he won’t be able to avoid it. 

But it doesn’t matter, because suddenly a body flashes into Oikawa’s field of vision and the hit meant for him lands on Iwaizumi’s solid chest. Iwaizumi doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he shoves Kaito to the ground and then steps back until his body hits Oikawa’s. He presses his back firmly into Oikawa’s chest without taking his eyes off Kaito. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Oikawa sees Miyu dart to her brother’s side, but he’s not listening to whatever she’s telling her asshole of a brother. 

“Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi twists, but before he can speak Oikawa wrenches him into the tightest hug he can muster. He clings to Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi squeezes back, his body warm and solid in Oikawa’s arms. He’s vaguely aware of Mattsun and Makki darting in front of them, shielding them from Kaito, but he’s mostly focused on _Iwa-chan_. 

_Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan, Iwa-chan…_

“Oh my god, Tooru. Shit, are you okay? Tooru? Hey! You’re bleeding!” Iwaizumi cradles Oikawa’s face in both hands and wipes a smear of blood from his lip. He looks shaken.

Oikawa is breathless, but he manages to croak out, “Yes. Yeah, Iwa-chan, I’m okay.”

Iwaizumi shoves his face into the side of Oikawa’s neck and frantically murmurs, lips moving fast against his skin, “I was scared I wouldn’t make it in time. I was following you, but it all just escalated so fast. One second you were just talking and the next you were on top of him. I was terrified that you…t-that you were going to get really hurt because of me.”

Oikawa forces Iwaizumi’s face out from his neck so that he can rest their foreheads together and look him in his green eyes as he says, “ _You_ are worth getting hurt for.”

Oikawa stops to catch his breath for a moment, then says, “This is the guy, Iwa-chan. The one whose been hurting you. We can make him stop now.”

“Yeah, about that…” Yahaba manages to get their attention. He and Kyoutani are standing over Kaito, looking down at him, arms crossed.

Suddenly, Oikawa realizes where they are and who they are with. He hastily unwraps himself from Iwaizumi, but Iwaizumi seems reluctant to let go. He lets his fingers linger and drag down on Oikawa’s arm, across the back of his hand, before finally letting his arm fall.

Kaito is still sitting on the ground, his sister crouching next to him, but she also has both hands pushed into his shoulder, trying to keep him from getting up. He makes no move to push her off. However, he does shoot Yahaba a glare and spits, “All you pricks on the volleyball team are the same. All so perfect and delicate and acting like Seijoh is your playground.” 

Then he glares at Iwaizumi, snarling, “And _you_ , you’re just a violent asshole, the type of person who _enjoys_ hurting others. You’re disgusting. You deserve everything you got and more.”

He turns his gaze back to Oikawa and plasters another satisfied smirk back onto his face. Clearly relishing his own words, he says, “And there’s nothing you can prove. _You_ attacked _me,_ out of nowhere and unprovoked _._ This was all in self-defense. _And_ I’ve got Miyu on my side to vouch for me. You’re absolutely useless. All you fuckers are going to be kicked out of school.”

“I don’t think that’s quite true,” Iwaizumi growls, narrowing his eyes at Kaito.

Oikawa has been on the receiving end of Iwaizumi’s glares countless times. However, he’s never seen one quite like _this_. Iwaizumi looks downright menacing. He has an expression that reminds Oikawa of how someone looks at roadkill or a repulsive insect.Kaito should be scrambling away in fear.

“You left me this note today didn’t you?” Iwaizumi pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and holds it up for Kaito to see. The furious look on Kaito’s face is nothing compared to Iwaizumi’s absolutely ruthless, unforgiving glare. 

“Iwaizumi, you got a note from him? What’s it say?” Makki asks. 

“It was unsigned, but I’m assuming it’s from him. I was hoping Miyu could let us know if she recognizes the handwriting or not.” 

The second Iwaizumi turns his gaze on Miyu, the menacing expression fades completely, replaced by something kind and, Oikawa notes, a little built guilty. He holds the note out for her to look at. 

She takes it from him with hesitant hands. Unfurling it in her lap, she reads the contents. As soon as she finishes, she shoots Iwaizumi a horrified, pained look and hands it back to him with a brief nod. 

She rounds on her brother and screeches, “You fucking wrote that to him? What the hell is wrong with you? Oh my god! I can’t _believe_ you!”

“Iwaizumi, what does it say?” Mattsun says urgently. Iwaizumi wordlessly passes him the crumpled paper. Mattsun reads it, Makki peering over his shoulder. Both of their faces go pale and Mattsun silently hands it over to a curious Kyoutani. 

Yahaba leans in to read along with Kyoutani. They finish and turn their attention back to Iwaizumi, matching looks of horror on their faces. 

Scowling, Kyoutani hands him the note and growls, “He said that if you didn’t quit volleyball he would start targeting other members of the team? What a fucking psychopath!” 

_“Excuse me, what?”_ Oikawa asks, voice icy and quiet. He’s about to take a step towards Kaito but Iwaizumi places a gentle hand on his shoulder and steps into his path, forcing Oikawa to make eye contact.

Oikawa searches his best friend’s familiar green eyes. They’ve always been one of the few constants in his life. 

“Tooru, don’t. I’m fine. You’re fine. The team is fine. This asshole is done. I’m sure he’ll be kicked out of school for this. We don’t need to escalate this any more,” Iwaizumi urges softly.

Oikawa sees the lingering fear in Iwaizumi’s eyes and remembers watching him cradle the broken remains of their trophy, a heartbroken expression on his face. Oikawa remembers the way his body looked at the bottom of the stairs, eyes closed and blood on his pale face. He remembers icy cold toes poking at his own warm skin; a tiny, bandaid-wrapped pinky entwined with his own; strong arms wrapped around him underneath piles of blankets. He remembers tears that aren’t his own dripping down his neck; a forehead pressed against his; warm lips moving on his neck.

He focuses his gaze back on Iwaizumi and finally lets the angry fire in his chest die. The heat dissipates and leaves him alone in the cold winter air, standing with Iwaizumi under a dark sky full of glittering stars. 

“You’re right, Iwa-chan. He’s finished.” 

Oikawa crouches down in front of Kaito and says, “Fuck you. Fuck you for hurting Iwa-chan and fuck you for threatening my team. I feel bad for your sister. Having a pathetic idiot like you for a brother must make life difficult.”

Oikawa stands and looks down at Iwaizumi’s tormenter, the guy who’d put every cut and bruise and heartbroken tear on his best friend's face for the past week, and says one last thing.

“And if you _ever_ come near Hajime or anyone on my volleyball team ever again, I’ll fucking break your arm. You can trust me on that, because _I. Don’t. Lie._ ”

Then he grabs Iwaizumi’s hand and turns his back on Kaito. He walks away, resolutely pulling his best friend behind him. 

He’s sure Iwaizumi can feel his hand tremor, but Iwaizumi says nothing, just carefully laces their fingers together and rubs his thumb in circles over the back of Oikawa’s hand. 

Oikawa hears a dull thump and a low grunt. He jerks to a stop, fingers tightening around Iwaizumi’s. He twists, worried that Kaito might be idiotic enough to try something again. 

Instead Oikawa just sees Mattsun, unclenching a fist, walking away from Kaito, and sharing a pleased grin with Makki. He sees Oikawa staring and snorts, “What? _Like you said_ , he’s an idiot! I had to show him you really meant business!”

Oikawa just shakes his head and tugs Iwaizumi along, guiding them away from this godforsaken apartment complex. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was watching Game Grumps while writing this so the "tighten your pee-holes" line was inspired by Dan and Arin :)
> 
> I also just created a Twitter for this account, so come check me out! It's looking pretty sad right now, but I'll probably use it to post about updates and other writing stuff in the future.  
> [Gari on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Garicole_G)
> 
> As always, thank you for reading!  
> -Gari


	10. Just You: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of Hajime and Tooru finally getting all their feelings out.

Iwaizumi allows himself to be tugged along, periodically squeezing the hand in his, if only to remind Oikawa that he’s _here_. Oikawa’s warm hand shakily squeezes back every single time. 

Oikawa comes to a stop under the bright, fluorescent lights of the 24-hour convenience store. Iwaizumi shifts closer to him, still holding his hand, and notices the spike of adrenaline starting to seep from his body. He’s no longer sure whose hand it is that’s raked with tremors: his or Oikawa’s.

The street is completely deserted. It’s dark and cold and anyone sensible would know to stay indoors. As Iwaizumi glances around, he suddenly realizes that Yahaba isn’t with them. When Kyoutani notices him searching, he jerks a thumb over thumb over his shoulder and says, “Yahaba’s making sure Miyu’s okay. We didn’t like the idea of her staying with her brother tonight.”

“He’ll be fine on his own?”

Kyoutani snorts, “Oh yeah, definitely. Don’t worry. Yahaba can handle himself. Besides, that asshole up there isn’t gonna try anything anytime soon. I think Oikawa just made him shit his pants.”

Iwaizumi nods.

Suddenly, he feels Oikawa’s hand jerked from his. Worried, he turns in time to watch his best friend sink to the ground, cross-legged, and slump with his head in his hands.

Iwaizumi hastily drops to crouch to wrap an arm around his shoulders. He can feel Oikawa shivering and, unfortunately, Iwaizumi has  seen this happen so many times that his body reacts on autopilot. He begins to rub his thumb in soothing circles on Oikawa’s arm, all the while murmuring in his ear, “Hey, Tooru, you’re okay. We’re all safe. You did so good-”

Kyoutani clears his throat, unfamiliar with this less-than-confident aspect of Oikawa Tooru. “Iwaizumi, does he need to go to the hospital?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t move or look away from Oikawa, even as he replies, “No. I’ve got him. He’ll be okay.” He keeps trying to calm his best friend, saying, “Hey, Tooru, can you look at me? I want you to try and breathe with me, okay?”

Oikawa doesn’t look up. Instead, he places his hand over the one Iwaizumi has on his shoulder and says, “I’m okay now, Iwa-chan. I-I wasn’t panicking. Just…just leftover adrenaline, I think. I was…I was really scared earlier, but it didn’t really hit me until just now. I’m okay.” His voice is tired and breathless.

“I’m not quite sure if I believe you,” Iwaizumi replies, running his other hand up and down Oikawa’s back. 

They’re interrupted as Yahaba joins them, Miyu at his side with a backpack slung over her back. She’s pale, but otherwise unharmed.

Iwaizumi barely glances at them, completely focused on Oikawa, who still won’t look at him.

He hears Miyu say, “All of you, I-I need to tell you how very sorry I am, about all of this. My brother has always been an overprotective dick, but I _never_ thought he would do something like this. I’ll do whatever I can to help you resolve everything.” Then she tentatively asks, “And, um, Iwaizumi-san?”

Iwaizumi glances at her and she says, “I…I’m _really_ sorry about what happened when we spoke earlier this week. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. One of my friends pushed me into confessing and I…I wasn’t quite ready to yet. I regret the way everything went down and I’m especially sorry my brother’s actions. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

Oikawa’s hand tightens over Iwaizumi’s. Iwaizumi squeezes back and says to Miyu, “It’s okay. I’m sorry that I said pretty much all the wrong things and had a terrible response.” He pauses for a second before awkwardly adding, “And…uh, that…I kinda forgot your name when we talked.”

At that, Yahaba’s eyebrows shoot up and Kyoutani gives a low whistle. 

Miyu gives a tiny snort of laughter and says, “Actually, afterwards it was kinda funny. It gave me and my mom something to laugh about.”

Under Iwaizumi’s arm, Oikawa’s shaking starts to subside and he weakly slumps into Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi gives him his full attention again and is only vaguely aware that the conversation continues as Miyu adds, “I really _will_ help all of you in any way I can. I’m…I’m just so sorry.” She sniffles. 

“Hey, it’s not your fault. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt,” Mattsun says kindly.

Iwaizumi hears her reply, “Kaito’s furious right now, but I don’t think he’d ever hurt me on purpose. Still, it’s really scary to be around him when he’s like this. Thank you for coming back for me.”

Oikawa finally looks up at Iwaizumi. He’s pale and there’s a bruise blooming under his right eye. His nose and bottom lip are bloody, but beneath all that he looks calm. His brown eyes search Iwaizumi’s face carefully. 

Iwaizumi stares back, just as intently.

After a moment, Oikawa drags his eyes way and looks up to Kyoutani. He surprises Iwaizumi when the first thing he says is, “Kyoutani, I’m sorry I called you Mad Dog earlier.”

Kyoutani just shrugs and says, “It’s whatever.”

But Oikawa pushes on. “No, it’s not. And Kaito was wrong about you too. All that stupid gossip that goes around isn’t true. You aren’t a loser or a weirdo-”

Yahaba cuts in, “ _Excuse me,_ he is most _definitely_ a weirdo. He’s _my_ weirdo.”

Kyoutani groans.

“Hm, so you two are a thing?” Oikawa asks slyly. 

Iwaizumi lets out a tired snort of laughter. Even after all this, after everything that’s happened _today_ _alone_ , Oikawa still has the energy to investigate, the brain power to get to the bottom of _one_ more mystery. Oikawa has always been far too inquisitive, too astute. It gets him into trouble. It gets Iwaizumi into trouble too. 

_Fuck_ , Iwaizumi is so in love with this boy.

Yahaba shares a secret smile with Kyoutani, shrugs his shoulders, and repeats, “He’s _my_ weirdo.”

“Fucking shut up, asshole. _You’re_ the weirdo,” Kyoutani mumbles to Yahaba under his breath. Yahaba beams and just plants a brief kiss on his lips. 

Oikawa hums in satisfaction, but Iwaizumi can still see exhaustion in his eyes. It’s been a long week. 

Suddenly, he stiffens underneath Iwaizumi’s arm and startles all of them by commanding, “Hey! All off you! Take a hundred steps that way-” he points an arm down the sidewalk “-and turn around. Ignore me and Iwa-chan!” 

Then he grabs Iwaizumi’s hand, looks at him with an adorably determined pout, and orders, “Iwa-chan! _You_ stay here.”

“Uh…You got it, Captain,” Mattsun says as he and Oikawa share a knowing look. 

Iwaizumi watches them have a silent conversation using nothing but furtive glances and arched eyebrows. It leaves him confused. After a moment, both boys give each other an affirmative, determined nod and Mattsun leads the others away, ushering them into the warmth of the convenience store.

Once they’re gone, Oikawa wraps both arms around Iwaizumi’s waist and squeezes him so tightly it pushes the air from his lungs. 

Still crouched awkwardly over Oikawa, but making no move to readjust them, Iwaizumi huffs, “Dude, I can’t breathe!”

Oikawa ignores him. Instead, he fixes their awkward hug by yanking Iwaizumi into his lap. Iwaizumi’s hands fly to Oikawa’s shoulders and he falls into him with a quiet “oof.” He ends up sitting on Oikawa, with his thighs framing the other’s hips. 

As soon as they’re settled, Oikawa buries his face in his neck. Iwaizumi can hear sniffling as his rapid breaths warm his skin.

It’s intimate, _much_ more so than anything they’ve ever done before. A pleased shiver rakes up Iwaizumi’s spine. He likes this. A lot. He loves having Oikawa beneath him; he loves being on his lap; he loves Tooru’s warm breath on his neck. Their bodies tangle together so easily.

He plays with the hair at the nape of Oikawa’s neck and softly says, “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you now. You’re okay.” 

A wet drop hits his neck, soon followed by more. 

“N-No, you g-gotta listen to me! There’s something I-I have to say,” Oikawa stammers. His lips brush Iwaizumi’s neck and his voice is muffled as he begins to frantically babble, “I’m _so_ sorry, Hajime. I understand if your furious at me and I’ll do _anything_ to fix it, anything to win your trust back. _Please_ believe me! There was no time and everything happened so fast and I was angry and so _so_ _scared_. Scared that you’d be mad at me, that you’d get hurt again, that you weren’t watching out for yourself, that you didn’t want _me_ to watch out for you, that I would make things change between us. I was terrified of _so_ many things and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do this without you, but I f-felt like I h-had to.” 

He stops to take another sniffle and then, in a devastated whisper, pleads, “ _Please forgive me, Hajime_.”

Iwaizumi tightens his arms around Oikawa, presses his cheek onto the top of his head, and replies fiercely, “ _Tooru_ , I’m _not_ mad at you. How could I be mad at you for caring so much? Honestly, I’m _relieved_. I’m glad this is over. I was scared too. I’m just sorry you got hurt in the process.” 

Iwaizumi gently guides Oikawa’s face out from the curve of his neck so that they can look at each other. As Oikawa blinks at him with glassy brown eyes, Iwaizumi continues, “ _Please_ , never _ever_ be scared of anything with me. I’m _with_ you. I’m on your team and you’re on mine. Nothing will make me abandon you. _No take backs_ , idiot.”

Oikawa sniffles. Iwaizumi smooths his hands up his neck and cradles his face. He smiles warmly and says, “Tooru, I’m not angry at all. I’m _proud_ of you.”

“But all of this was resolved because of _you_ , not me. I barely did a thing this whole week,” Oikawa huffs wetly. 

Iwaizumi runs a hand through soft, brown hair, fingering the strands and letting them slip from his fingers. “No, _I_ was just keeping a promise. _You_ , like you _always_ do, proved to be the captain that I- that _we_ -can count on. You protect your team. You always have.” 

Iwaizumi gently thumbs away each tear as it spills from Oikawa’s eyes. However, when Oikawa harshly squeezes his eyelids shut and looks down, Iwaizumi has to let his hands fall. 

He can still feel the tears splash steadily onto his skin.

When Oikawa finally lifts his head, his mouth is grim and determined; his eyes lit with a steady, bright flame. 

“What about the last thing,” Oikawa asks in a tone that triggers a faint stir of recognition in Iwaizumi’s memory. 

_He’s heard that tone before…_

“The last thing?”

“The part where I said I was scared I might change things between us.”

At those words, Iwaizumi remembers _exactly_ what that tone in Oikawa’s voice means. He can’t stop himself from shifting a few inches away, suddenly nervous. 

_This_ is the voice Oikawa only ever uses when his next words will change both of their lives forever. It’s uncertain but determined; hesitant but obstinate. 

Just like Oikawa. 

A tangle of conflicting impossibilities. 

Seven-year-old Hajime had first heard it when a tiny Tooru had held up a volleyball and asked, “Wanna try something with me?”

He’d heard it again when Oikawa said he had no plans to attend Shiratorizawa, but instead an unfamiliar school called “Aoba Johsai.” 

He'd heard it once more at 15, but only after _hours_ of searching, when he’d finally found Oikawa hiding at their old playground, exhausted and teary. Iwaizumi had listened as his stammering best friend revealed that he liked boys and _not_ girls.

Most recently, he’d heard it when Oikawa had bundled their bodies close together beneath the blankets of Iwaizumi’s bed and confessed he was thinking of pursuing volleyball overseas. They had both cried that night. 

_This voice…_

It makes Iwaizumi want to scramble off Oikawa’s lap. It makes him want to shout for their friends and retreat to the safety of a group.

Change scares him, but a part of his brain is insisting that, _with Oikawa_ , even change can be weathered. 

Iwaizumi is left with the realization that running away is what caused all his problems to begin with. He’d been scared, so he ignored Kaito and stayed silent. He’d tried to avoid his problem. 

And it ended up hurting Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath and tries to keep a steady voice as he asks, “What do you want to change?”

“You just said I didn’t have anything to be scared of with you, right?” 

Iwaizumi nods, eyes flitting over Oikawa’s face.

Oikawa wets his lips and continues, “Well, in that case, there’s something I should tell you. It’s something that I’ve been scared to tell you for a really long time. Even now, I’m _still_ terrified.”

“Don’t be scared with me,” Iwaizumi says fiercely, raising his hands to cup Oikawa’s face. “I don’t want you to ever be scared of anything with me.”

The resolve Oikawa had a moment ago crumbles. His eyes fill with tears and his lower lip quivers. Iwaizumi’s own hands shake as he begins to gently wipe the other’s tears away once again. 

He only grows more tense as the silence continues. 

“Tooru, you’re starting to scare me,” he whispers. 

“I’m sorry. I-I know best friends aren’t supposed to hide things from each other. There’s something I've kept from you a-and I’m terrified about what will happen when I tell you what it is,” Oikawa whispers back, voice small and subdued and quite unlike anything Iwaizumi has heard from him before. 

As Oikawa lowers his eyes, Iwaizumi presses their foreheads together, desperate to be of some comfort. His own fear of overstepping the platonic line be damned. It’s gone, demolished years ago. There’s nothing left to cross. He’s in love with Tooru and it’s time to face the facts.

Oikawa exhales shakily and settles his hands on Iwaizumi’s thighs. 

“Tooru, what is it?” Iwaizumi murmurs. 

When Oikawa finally looks at him, his eyes are so grief-stricken that Iwaizumi can feel his heart shatter.

In a broken voice, Oikawa finally whispers, “Hajime, I-I love you. I’m _in_ love with you. I tried to stop myself, I _swear_ I did, but I just couldn’t make it go away. I’ve hated every second I kept this from you. A-and I _know_ we don’t do this to each other. That’s never been how we worked. But I was just so _scared_. I was terrified of losing you. I’m _still_ terrified I’ll lose you.” He takes in a shuddering breath and cries softly, “ _Hajime_ , I love you and I’m so _so_ sorry.”

Iwaizumi stiffens. He feels like he’s been punched in the gut. 

For the second time that day, Tooru desperately sobs, “ _Please forgive me_.”

Iwaizumi can’t get enough air into his lungs. 

“Oikawa, i-is that what you were scared to tell me? Is this what you’ve been hiding from me? Please, I _need_ to know, I-I just need to confirm before-” 

Tooru nods weakly and tries to look away, but with Iwaizumi still cradling his face he can’t move.

Iwaizumi releases a slightly hysterical giggle, but it only ends up getting caught in his throat. The sounds he actually lets out is more of a tight wheeze. 

Tooru tilts his head in confusion. With their foreheads still pressed together, the movement causes the cut on Iwaizumi’s forehead to throb, but he finds he doesn’t care. He simply _aches_ with the need to be close to Tooru.

He trails his fingers over Tooru’s jaw reverently, so relieved he thinks he might melt into the ground. He wants to worship this boy. 

It takes a moment for Iwaizumi to yank himself from the shock of this revelation. He needs to share the news with Tooru, who has started sniffling again.

Brushing the tears from Tooru’s cheeks, Iwaizumi murmurs,“ _Oh my god._ Tooru, don’t you _see?_ You never have anything to be scared of with me. I won’t leave you, not now, not ever.” He bumps their noses together and falls in love all over again when a spark of hope flares to life in those warm, familiar brown eyes. 

Into the quiet space between their faces, Iwaizumi murmurs, “I’m in love with you, Oikawa Tooru. Head over heels. I’m so in love with you that sometimes I think my heart has no room for anything but you. But when I see your face or I hear your voice, I realize that _not_ loving you would be a far worse fate.”

Tooru’s eyes are grow wide. He blinks twice, opens his mouth to say something, and quickly snaps it shut. Iwaizumi stays quiet, allowing Tooru all the time he needs to process.

Given that Iwaizumi just experienced this same startling revelation seconds ago, he knows there’s an odd moment of wonder, an instant of nervous shock, when learning your love is returned. 

Finally, with his bottom lip quivering, Tooru mumbles out, “But…but I’m me? I’m just me? Just a best friend?”

“ _Exactly_. You’re _just you._ Don’t you remember? I once told you I didn’t want anything more than ‘ _just you_.’”

Tooru’s glassy eyes are unwavering as Iwaizumi plunges on, “And you could never be ‘ _just_ a best friend.’ You’re _my_ best friend, my first choice, my ‘ _Number One Best Friend_ ’ and you have me wrapped around your finger. You always have. And I mean, _really_ Tooru, how could I _not_ be in love with you? It could never be anyone _but_ you. I picked you a long time ago, before I even knew what love was.”

Tooru’s blinks again, numb disbelief starting to fade from his eyes. Hesitantly, he searches Iwaizumi’s face and asks, “So…um…so _you_ love _me_? A-and _I_ love _you_?”

“That’s what this sounds like. Unless you’re taking it back?”

“No!” Tooru cries. “I love you! I’m not taking it back! No take backs allowed!”

Iwaizumi hunches over to smother his laughter in Tooru’s shoulder. He can hear little perturbed huffs of laughter coming from above him. 

It’s quiet and comfortable. Iwaizumi rests his head on Tooru’s shoulder and begins to trail a finger up and down his spine. When Iwaizumi gazes up, he finds Tooru’s pale face crowned with wisps of brown hair and the glittering constellations of the night sky. 

He’s beautiful. 

And he loves Iwaizumi back. 

“You know, out of the two of us, you’ve always been the braver one,” Iwaizumi says after a moment.

“What do you mean?” Tooru asks. He wraps an arm around Iwaizumi’s lower back and pulls him impossibly closer. He looks just as calm and content as Iwaizumi feels. 

Iwaizumi settles against him with a satisfied hum before continuing, “You took charge this week and pretty much saved my ass. Sometimes I think I’m waiting for you to do something just so that I can follow you. Now, you’ve even confessed first. _I_ was the one too scared to ever say anything.”

“It was because of you.”

“Huh?” Now Iwaizumi’s confused. He straightens up to look Tooru in the eyes. 

“You make me brave,” Tooru murmurs as he traces a long finger over Iwaizumi’s jaw line.

“Really?

Tooru hums in affirmation.

“Then let me be the brave one for once. Let me tell you what’s on my mind.”

“Um, okay?” Tooru’s smile is small and curious. 

Iwaizumi can’t stop himself from grinning. “So what _I’m_ thinking is that I really _really_ want to kiss you right now. Would that be okay?”

Tooru snorts into the space between them but his eyes are bright, glinting like he’s about to give Iwaizumi exactly what he asked for. 

But then he pauses. Tooru glances at the rough cement sidewalk, the fluorescent, stark white lights of the convenience store, the harrowing apartment complex looming behind them and promptly wrinkles his nose. He sticks his lower lip out in a perturbed pout. 

“ _Hmm_ , I don’t think so, Iwa-chan. I don’t want our first kiss to be _here._ It should be somewhere warm and nice and familiar and safe. This place is, uh, to put it bluntly, a shithole.”

Iwaizumi leans forward to playfully flick his nose up against Tooru’s. “You have the weirdest ideas,” he says fondly. “How about we go back to my room? Would that work?”

Tooru nudges back and says, “That would be an excellent spot for a kiss, I think.” 

“Can I hold your hand on the way back?” 

“I’d like that.” The smile Tooru gives is shy at first, but then he seems to realize _who_ he’s with, _who_ exactly he’d just professed his love to, and the smile morphs into a smug grin. 

“Iwa-chan _loves_ me,” he starts to sing, voice light and teasing. 

Iwaizumi _really_ wants to kiss him. So much. 

“Iwa-chan _loves_ me, Iwa-chan _loves_ me. No take backs allowed,” Tooru continues to chirp. He eyes Iwaizumi and looks extremely pleased with himself as he wiggles his hips to the beat of his made-up tune.

It takes all of Iwaizumi’s restraint to pull away, but he finally manages to stand and holds out a hand. 

Tooru takes it easily.

“You’re a dumbass, but you’re a _smart_ dumbass. And I _do_ love you. So let’s get our friends and go home already,” Iwaizumi says, rolling his eyes. 

Together, hands clasped, he and Tooru turn to look for their friends. 

And instantly Iwaizumi freezes. Next to him, he feels Tooru do the same.

Makki and Mattsun are inside the convenience store, noses and palms pressed against the glass, shamelessly _gawking_ at them. As soon as they’re caught, they jerk away from the window and guiltily pretend to be deeply invested in a rack of snacks.

But Iwaizumi can see Makki still watching them out of the corner of his eye. Mattsun must notice too, because he places both hands on Makki’s head and forces his best friend to look at him. Makki immediately stops focusing on Iwaizumi and Oikawa and gives Mattsun his complete attention. 

But he does not react as expected. 

Tooru and Iwaizumi are forced to watch as Makki leans forward and messily kisses Mattsun full on the mouth. Within seconds, Mattsun is kissing back fervidly. 

Iwaizumi grimaces. “They look like they’re trying to eat each other.” 

“Fuckers are trying to steal my moment,” Tooru mutters indignantly. He walks over and raps loudly on the glass, yelling, “Break it up, assholes!”

Makki doesn’t make any move to stop, just holds up a hand to flip Tooru off. Mattsun, however, starts giggling uncontrollably. He has to pull away and says something to Makki that Iwaizumi can’t hear. Makki rolls his eyes, but allows Mattsun to take his hand and pull him away from the window, towards the exit. 

Before they can be interrupted by the presence of their nosy, disgusting friends, Tooru turns to Iwaizumi. With bright eyes and a playful smile, he casually whispers into his ear, “Iwa-chan, I have a _seeeeeeeeecret_. Wanna know what it is? I _looooove_ you.”

Iwaizumi can’t contain his snort of laughter and enjoys the sight of Tooru’s delighted grin growing even bigger. He taps his chin and hums thoughtfully, “Actually, I think I already heard that somewhere. Good thing I love you too or _this-_ ” he swiftly pecks Tooru on the cheek “-might be kinda awkward.”

Tooru whimpers like he’s in pain. “Iwa-chan, I really wish we were in your room right now.” He’s so close, it’s like he’s practically trying to meld his body against Iwaizumi’s.

Iwaizumi swallows and turns to see Makki and Mattsun, now casually leaning against the outside of the convenience store. Their hands are laced together, but they both shake their heads very slowly and wear matching frowns.

Kyoutani, Yahaba, and Miyu are gone. 

“Stop! Too much PDA already! I can’t take it!” Makki wails with a fake sob. 

“No! _More_ PDA!” Tooru cries and gleefully jumps on Iwaizumi, wrapping his legs around his waist and clinging to him like a baby koala. The only reason Iwaizumi manages to catch him is because he’s gotten pretty good at predicting Tooru after almost 20 years of friendship.

Iwaizumi takes a few steps, carefully cradling Tooru in his arms. 

“This is like watching your parents kiss. I’m uncomfortable and a little bit aroused,” Mattsun says, watching Iwaizumi struggle to hold Tooru.

Makki snorts, “That’s fuckin’ gross, my dude.” But immediately he grabs Mattsun’s jaw and yanks his laughing best friend (now boyfriend?) in for a kiss.

Mattsun pulls away and whispers, “How about ‘my romantically-affiliated-dude?” 

Makki cackles.

“You guys are _way_ worse than us. We haven’t even kissed yet. And you know what? Suffer my PDA. Serves you right,” Iwaizumi mutters underneath his breath. 

Then, to Tooru, he declares loudly,“Dude, I’m gonna kiss you so fuckin’ much in front of the team. It’s their punishment for being so nosy.”

“I think the punishment fits the crime, Iwa-chan,” Tooru croons. He presses his cheek to Iwaizumi’s and shoots Makki and Mattsun a positively evil smirk.

Afterwards, he carefully unlatches himself and allows Iwaizumi to set him gently on the ground. However, he stays close, looping an arm around Iwaizumi’s waist and planting a noisy, obnoxious kiss on his cheek. 

“We could out-PDA you any day,” Makki challenges. 

Sensing they’re about to go down an avenue he doesn’t want to pursue, Iwaizumi quickly cuts in and asks, “Where’d the others go?” 

He has to ignore Tooru, who keeps nudging his nose against Iwaizumi’s temple. It’s both a silent plea for attention _and_ a way to annoy Makki and Mattsun. Iwaizumi would have absolutely hated it… _if_ he wasn’t currently relishing this newfound reality where Tooru is in love with him. 

Makki and Mattsun watch them, looking slightly nauseous. Iwaizumi thinks they really ought to know better. **_Never_** _challenge Oikawa Tooru._

Mattsun tears his eyes away from Tooru with one more queasy look and says, “They took Miyu to her aunt’s house. We told them not to wait up because we were worried you two might start having sex in the middle of the sidewalk. We didn’t want to subject them to that.” 

Tooru frowns. “Then why did you guys stay?”

“Because-” Makki waggles his eyebrows “-I’m an exhibitionist.”

“You’re so gross,” Mattsun says fondly. Then he shoots a furtive glance back at the apartment building behind them. “Can we leave now? I think we’re done here and this place gives me the creeps. Yahaba said he’d go with Miyu to the office on Monday and tell them what happened. All you two will probably have to do is hand over that godawful note and give your side of the story. Miyu should be able to confirm the handwriting.”

Once they’ve started walking, Iwaizumi says, “Yahaba will be a good captain. He takes care of his teammates.” 

He holds Tooru’s hand just a little tighter when he sees his small, bittersweet smile. Tooru sends him an appreciative smile and squeezes back before adding, “Yahaba’s a good guy. So is Kyoutani. They make a good match.”

“Yeah, those two are _definitely_ married,” Makki says. He turns to Mattsun and adds, “You, my friend, owe me 1000 yen.”

“Can I pay it in kisses?” Mattsun counters.

“Nope. Gotta be yen. _Buuuuuut_ let’s circle back to those kisses at some point.” 

Mattsun shrugs. “Fair enough.”

As they reach the intersection where Iwaizumi and Oikawa have to part with them, Iwaizumi says, “Hey, thanks guys, for all of this. You really saved me.”

Mattsun punches him in the shoulder. “We aren’t the type to let a friend suffer on their own. I always knew some of the other teams viewed us as kinda self-important, which, by the way, is fucking stupid. But I never thought it would turn into something like this. We gotta watch out for each other.” 

Makki nods and adds, “ _Also_ , full disclosure, I _did_ take a shit ton of pictures of you guys cuddled up on the sidewalk and finally professing your undying love to each other. For science.”

Iwaizumi opens his mouth, about to say something insulting, but Tooru jabs him in the side with an elbow.

“Send me those,” Tooru demands. “ _Makki. Do you understand?_ I _need_ them. Send them to me. _Every_. _Single_. _One_.” 

“You got it, Captain. For science, right?” Makki says with a salute.

“For science,” Tooru confirms.

Iwaizumi makes eye contact with Mattsun and just shakes his head.

Then, he allows Tooru to tug him along once again, back towards their neighborhood, where, _hopefully_ , Iwaizumi will finally be allowed to kiss him senseless. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, so sorry this chapter took so long to post. It kept getting bigger and bigger and it took forever to edit.  
> Thank you for reading! If you want, leave a comment. They always make me smile!  
> -Gari
> 
> I just made a twitter profile!  
> [Gari on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Garicole_G)


	11. Just You: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime finally gets his kiss.

“Hey,” Tooru calls gently as they walk home, finally breaking their relaxed silence. 

Hajime is currently lost in thought, cherishing the feeling of Tooru’s warm hand in his. He has to keep glancing down to confirm that this is real. Holding Tooru’s hand like this, it’s so new.

_But_ , Hajime thinks, _it’s also so familiar in the most mind-blowing sense_. _I can just take his hand now, no consequences, no fear of crossing a line. Was it always this easy?_

Their steps are synced perfectly, like nothing has changed, but the way their hands sway, intertwined between them, proves that _something_ is different. 

As Tooru slows to a stop, Hajime has to drag his eyes away from their linked hands to look up and say, “Sorry, ‘m just thinking about a lot right now.”

“Me too, but actually, I have something for you.” Tooru carefully shakes his hand from Hajime’s, who protests with a small, indignant _“Hey!”_

A sliver of a smile appears on Tooru’s face as he grabs the back of Hajime’s hand and turns it over, tilting his palm face up, now open to receive _whatever it is_ that Tooru wants to hand him. 

Tooru pulls his hand from his pocket, holds out a tightly closed fist over Hajime’s open palm, and says, “You ready?”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “Uh, sure? You know it’s too soon for you to be proposing to me, right?”

Tooru rolls his eyes and says nothing. He opens his hand and something small and gold falls into Hajime’s palm. 

Hajime can only gape at it for a second.

“ _No way,_ ” he whispers in wonder, before slowly trailing off. 

It’s a leg. It’s _his_ leg. The missing piece of the trophy Tooru had made for him.

“You found it!” Hajime cries with disbelief. Tooru responds with a happy hum and watches Hajime’s face closely as he admires missing leg he thought he’d never see again. 

Hajime fingers the little bit of plastic. It’s been scuffed, scratched, and, at this point, most of the gold paint has flaked off, but it’s _back_. Tooru _found_ it. Which means-

“Will you help me put him back together?” Hajime says, slowly turning the tiny leg over in his palm. 

Hajime looks up to see Tooru watching him and smiling softly. “Of course, Iwa-chan. I’d like that a lot.” 

Hajime admires the little plastic leg and Tooru continues, voice thoughtful, “That day was really important, wasn’t it? I don’t think I ever realized that it was just as special to you as it was to me.”

Hajime smiles when he looks back at Tooru to say, “Even though we were little kids, when we made that promise, I kind of just _knew_ that you’d always be my partner. It wasn’t even in a romantic sense, but more like, I dunno, I knew you’d always be…be _my person_ , I guess. It’s hard to put into words. But I knew I would never have to worry about being alone. I’d always have an equal, a partner.” 

Hajime slips the leg into his pocket and takes Tooru’s hand again, lacing their fingers together. Tooru raises their clasped hands to his lips and kisses Hajime’s knuckles. When they start walking again, he replies, “Me too. After that day, I think I assumed the same. You’ve always been mine. I don’t really know how else to put it. I never even thought it was selfish because somehow I knew I belonged to you too. You’re the person I picked. I knew I wanted you to be my partner, even though I was only seven. I guess it only makes sense that I fell in love with you. I was so lucky to find you when I was only a kid.”

Hajime is used to constantly suppressing affectionate thoughts for Tooru, that for a moment it takes him by surprise when he realizes he doesn’t have to hide his feelings anymore. So, still in awe that this is even _allowed_ , he murmurs, “I love you and I’m really happy you confessed to me tonight. I’m pretty lucky that you’re so brave.”

“Iwa-chan, I swear, if you make me cry yet again today, I will file for a _pre-divorce_. That’s when you get divorced before you’re even married. I’m making it a thing, starting now.” He also blows a raspberry at Hajime for good measure. 

Hajime lets out a bark of laughter. “Can I file for a _post_ -divorce remarriage?”

“Sorry, only in America,” Tooru replies without a moment’s hesitation.

Tooru’s words jog something in Hajime’s memory. Grinning, he excitedly says, “Oh! Speaking of America, there’s something I completely forgot to tell you!” 

Tooru just tilts his head, so Hajime continues while waving his hand around rapidly. “So, American schools have _ridiculously_ long Summer breaks compared to over here. Most schools are done by like, May or something and don’t resume until August. That’s _so_ much time! Do you think maybe I could spend my Summers with you? In whatever country you end up in for volleyball?”

Tooru’s eyes sparkle and he positively beams, cheeks so round and flushed with happiness that Hajime has a weird urge to pinch them. 

“Iwa-chan, I would _love_ that,” Tooru gushes, suddenly just as excited as Hajime. His eyes light up like he just had an idea and he eagerly blazes on, “Oh! _And,_ since I’m considering _maybe_ Argentina and I think their Summer breaks start in, like, December and go to February or something, then maybe _I_ could come visit _you!_ I’ve never been to America. I probably wouldn’t be able to stay the whole time because practice usually starts before classes, but it would be way better than _not_ seeing Iwa-chan.”

Hajime squeezes Tooru’s hand tightly. Grinning, he says, “Look at us, planning our futures like we’re old men or something.”

“Huh, who would’ve thought?” 

Tooru goes silent, casually swinging their hands back and forth between them as they keep walking. There’s a little hop in his step that wasn’t there before. A fond smile to appears on Hajime’s face, but Tooru doesn’t notice.

When they turn onto their street, Tooru breaks the comfortable silence. “Hey, um, can I call you ‘Hajime’ more often? I feel like that’s something I should be allowed to do if I’m in love with you.”

Hajime heaves a fake sigh before he says, “Really? No more ‘Iwa-chan?’ But sure, of course you can. You don’t even have to ask.” He pauses for a second, then grimaces and adds, “But maybe be careful doing it in front of the team. I can definitely see them using it against me.”

Tooru shoots him a withering look. “First of all, I swear on my own grave that ‘Iwa-chan’ will never _ever_ go away. And second of all, honestly, _Hajime?_ You think they’ll use your _actual name_ against you? How would they even do that?”

“Ha! Very funny, _Tooru_. They’re _your_ team. It’s like you don’t even know them. I have complete and utter faith that they would find a way. They’re so nosy. This whole disastrous week is a testament to that.”

He looks up at the sky, lets out a long groan, and adds, “Fuck, I never want to receive a confession again.”

“Not even _one_?” Tooru says pointedly, pursed lips and a single, raised eyebrow directed at Hajime. “You don’t want one? Not even from ‘ _your person_?’ 

Hajime narrows his eyes, but Tooru continues before he can get a word in, explaining, “You know, I didn’t _really_ get to confess to you _properly_ tonight. It should’ve been really cute and romantic, but instead I was just ugly crying on the ground, right after someone punched me in the face.” Tooru sticks out his lower lip in a fake pout, a terrible attempt at garnering Hajime’s sympathy. 

“Fine, but just _one_ ,” Hajime concedes. 

“ _Ugh_ , not fair! How can I pick just one? I’ve been pining after Iwa-chan for so long that I’ve had way too much time to plan _lots_ of really amazing confessions! So _now_ I’ve got literally hundreds of confession ideas that I’ll never get to use. _Ugh_ , what an absolute fucking waste!” Tooru wrinkles his nose and scowls at the ground. 

A hilarious idea pops into Hajime’s head. He cackles and Tooru turns his evil glare on him. Hajime shakes his head, saying, “Oh my god. Okay, so, if I were you, I would just cycle through _all_ my ideas and confess, like, once a week, just to annoy the perso- _Fuck_ …Never mind! Please forget _everything_ I just said.”

But Tooru is already grinning maniacally. 

“Tooru, please don’t do that,” Hajime begs. 

“But it would be so cute! We would be the most romantic couple _ever._ I mean, we already are, but this would just make us even more perfect!” Tooru raves, emphatically waving a hand in the air. 

“It would be so annoying.”

“That’s part of the charm!” Tooru continues to grin at him and Hajime can only regret that he was stupid enough to bring this on himself. 

However, Tooru’s smile also reminds him that he’d do pretty much anything for this boy. 

“Can’t we just be cute by calling each other pet names or something?” Hajime suggests in a last-ditch effort. 

“ _Ooooh,_ what kinds of cutesy names does Iwa-chan want to call me?” Tooru teases.

“I dunno. I don’t think about stuff like that. Do you have anything you like?” 

Tooru bites his lip and looks away, wearing a small, embarrassed smile.

Hajime flicks his forehead and reminds him, “You already told me you want to call me ‘Daddy,’ remember? So whatever name it is, you can tell me.”

“Ouch! Rude! And, when I said that, I didn’t say you _specifically,_ Iwa-chan! It was a general statement about my kinks. Don’t you look at me like that!” Tooru squawks indignantly, using his free hand to push Hajime’s smirking face away. He hesitates for a moment, before continuing, “So I know it’s kinda silly and old fashioned, but, uh, I really like ‘sweetheart.’ My grandparents use it all the time and I always thought it was really romantic. You can just tell how much they love each other. Ever since I was little, I’ve wanted someone to love me like that…” He trails off, a nostalgic smile on his face. However, as soon as he looks up at Hajime, he panics and yelps, “But only if Iwa-chan is okay with it! I know it’s silly!”

“It’s not silly. It’s cute. _You’re_ cute,” Hajime insists. He bumps Tooru a little too hard with his hip and sends him careening off the sidewalk and into the grass. Unfortunately, Hajime forgets they are holding hands and only ends up tumbling after him. He lands on top of Tooru, who is looking up at Hajime like he’s is the stupidest person alive.

“Ugh, sorry. Pushing _my sweetheart_ around isn’t gonna have the same satisfaction now that we’re together,” Hajime groans in fake disappointment.

“Really, _Hajime_? Not even if I get to do this?” 

Tooru pecks him on the cheek. 

“ _Hmm_ , well, I suppose that’s a _little_ consolation. I think I need one more though, to really make it worth my while. Watching you fall on your butt is _so_ very satisfying, so you gotta give me a really good reason to _not_ want it to happen.”

Tooru leans in to give him one more kiss, then says sweetly, “Now get your fat ass off me, _Hajime_. I really want to make out with you, but I’m not gonna do it here in the dirt.”

“ _Bossy_ ,” Hajime states with a shake of his head, but he gets up anyway. “Come on-” he tugs Tooru’s hand, “-we’re almost home, _my darling sweetheart._ ”

Tooru’s bright laugh makes Hajime tug him along a little faster.

_______________

Hajime finally unlocks the door to his home and pulls Tooru in after him. They stand in the dark entryway as Hajime fiddles around, removing his coat and putting his keys on the table. He strides down the hall and into the kitchen, switching on all the lights as he goes, turning the dim house into a warmly lit home.

It takes a moment for him to realize that Tooru isn’t following. 

Hajime pokes his head out the doorway and sees him still standing in the entryway, pressing his pointer fingers together, his coat and bag crumpled on the ground by his feet. 

“Hey, what are you worrying about?” Hajime asks. He walks over, adding, “And don’t lie and say, ‘ _oh nothing at all, Iwa-chan_ ’ and then give me one of those fake smiles.” He grabs Tooru’s wrist and pulls him into the homey, cluttered kitchen. 

There’s quite a few pots and pans, Hajime’s water bottles, dishes, and cutlery, littering the white marble countertop. Hajime’s wiped it down and kept it grime-free since his mother’s been traveling, but he’s not the best about putting his clean dishes away. He usually just leaves them out on the countertop to reuse later. Since Tooru usually spends the night when Hajime’s home alone, he’ll put them away while Hajime cooks them dinner.

_Well,_ either that _or_ he’ll clamor and clang about while building a precarious tower out of all the pots and pans until Hajime yells at him. 

Now however, Tooru sinks into a chair at the table. “I’m just overthinking. You know it’s what I do best,” he sighs wearily.

At the sink, Hajime fills a glass of water. Over the sound of the faucet, he calls,“Specifically about what?”

“I-uh, what if…what if this-” Tooru flutters a hand between himself and Hajime “-is a bad idea?”

Hajime comes to hover over Tooru’s seat and hands over the glass of water. Tooru refuses to look him in the eye as he takes it wordlessly.

Keeping his voice level, Hajime asks, “You mean, you and me getting together? Or falling in love?”

Tooru’s fingers tighten around the cup. “I’m kind of scared that this is going to make us different people to each other. I don’t want you to treat me any differently. I still want to be your best friend.”

“Why do you think I would change?”

Hajime thinks he knows where this is going. He pulls out a chair, turns it to directly face his best friend, and sits.

Tooru finally looks at him. In a small, uncertain voice he explains, “Aren’t you supposed to be really, oh…I dunno, like _sappy_ with your significant other?” 

_I knew it,_ Hajime thinks. But to Tooru, he merely says, “You’re worried I might start treating you the same way your fangirls do.” 

Tooru has shame written all over his face and that gives Hajime all the answers he needs. Very gently, he takes Tooru’s hand in his and strokes his thumb over the knuckles. 

“Are you really worried about that?”

Tooru rubs his face with his free hand before sighing, “Kind of? Well, _no_ , not really. I mean…I don’t know.” He groans at himself in frustration. “My brain came up with it and now I can’t stop thinking about it. I don’t want you to treat me like that.”

“Hey, I’m _glad_ you brought it up now. When your brain tells you things that don’t make sense, come to me so I can help, okay?” Only after Tooru nods, does Hajime push on, “And I’m not turning into one of your fangirls. You wanna know why? Because I’m not in _love_ with the person those fangirls obsess over. I’m in love with _you_.”

Tooru’s eyes brighten and the shame fades away.

“I love you too,” he says softly, eyes distant, like he’s still mulling over Hajime’s words. After a moment, he adds, “And you know I always come to you when I need help. _You’re_ the one we need to work on.” Tooru smirks and gestures at the bruises on Hajime’s face. 

“You’re one to talk. How about you look in a mirror? C’mon, let’s go upstairs and get you cleaned up. You’ve still got blood on your face and I’m not kissing you like that,” Hajime says.

Tooru sticks his tongue out, but follows him up the stairs anyway. Halfway up the steps, he hesitantly asks, “Hey, Hajime? How come you never wanted to tell anyone what was going on with Kaito?”

Hajime flicks on the bathroom light and makes Tooru sit up on the edge of the sink. He wets a towel and busies himself with gently wiping the blood from Tooru’s face.

“I didn’t want the attention,” he tells Tooru honestly, dabbing at the cut on lip. He can feel Tooru’s eyes on him. “But it was more than that. I was… I- _Look_ , Tooru, I was really scared. Someone was targeting me and I didn’t understand why. I kept trying to convince myself it wasn’t real and that it was a lot less terrifying than it felt. I just wanted the problem to go away and I thought maybe if I pretended it wasn’t happening it _would_.”

Hajime sighs and leans on the wall opposite Tooru, still explaining, “But then Kaito sent that note. It terrified me more than anything else he’d done. He said he wanted to watch me lose something that was important to me. That really made me start prioritizing. I suddenly had to take your safety, the team’s safety, into account.”

Tooru holds out a hand for Hajime to take and says, “It’s like you said earlier, Iwa-chan, I’m on your team and you’re on mine. So let me help sometimes, okay?”

“I will,” Hajime promises. He pushes from the wall and threads his fingers with Tooru’s. “I should’ve, earlier. You’ve proven time and time again that you can handle anything. It’s hard for me to depend on people. I don’t know why. _Still_ , I should trust you more.” He grunts in frustration and grumbles, “ _But_ I already know that I can trust you. Maybe I just need to trust my brain when it says to trust you? Ugh, it’s so hard to figure out. Sometimes my head just doesn’t make sense. I’m sorry.”

Tooru smiles and shakes his head. “Hajime, you’re the last person I need an apology from. You know, you’re really special. Don’t think I don’t realize that. I’m in a perpetual state of shock that the girls in our school obsess over me and not you. I’m well aware of how lucky I am to have found you.” 

Then, in a much quieter voice, he asks, “Would you have quit the team?”

Hajime shakes his head firmly. “No. That note made me realize Kaito wasn’t something I could just pretend away. What an idiot. He should’ve known better than to threaten the team, to threaten _you._ Once he’d done that, it was over.”

“Good,” Tooru says in satisfaction. He kisses Hajime on the nose. 

“I kinda feel bad for Miyu, though. Not because of the confession,” Hajime adds hurriedly when he sees the eyebrow Tooru raises at him. “But because she’s got a fucking lunatic for a brother. That can’t be easy. I’m kind of worried. Maybe the volleyball team can watch out for her? We could use a manager, right?”

Tooru pulls Hajime forward to settle him between his legs. He looks at him adoringly. “You are the sweetest person to ever grace this planet or any other. _Yes_ , I’m including aliens in that. You’re better than any alien out there and trust me, I do not say that lightly.”

Hajime blinks in surprise, listening as Tooru concedes, “Miyu’s brother is _definitely_ the worst person I’ve ever met, so that might be a good idea on your part. She’d just better not confess to you again.”

Hajime laughs. “I don’t think she’ll be confessing to anyone anytime soon, but even so; she did see us on the sidewalk earlier. She knows I’m spoken for. I’m guessing by now, _everyone_ knows I’m spoken for.”

Tooru groans and puts his head in his hands. “ _God_ , don’t remind me. I still can’t believe Makki and Mattsun were watching the whole time. _You_ looked totally hot and handsome, but I’m sure I looked disgusting with my red eyes and all that snot on my face.”

Tooru wrinkles his nose and pouts. 

“I thought you looked pretty cute…and it’s weird that you’re so much more complimentary of me now.” Hajime muses. 

“Don’t be stupid, Iwa-chan. I’ve always been _extremely_ complimentary of you. I simply had to keep all my dirty thoughts inside. Get ready for ten years’ worth of compliments to be unleashed. _God_ , I really fucking love your muscles.” He stares at Hajime’s clothed chest. 

Hajime feels a weird combination of shock, amusement, and glee. It must show on his face because Tooru suddenly starts snickering. 

Hajime sticks his tongue out, but holds up a hand to help Tooru off the counter anyway. Tooru ignores it, instead opting to wrap his long legs around Hajime’s waist and pulling him flush against his body.

Hajime snorts and rests their foreheads together. “So, how do you wanna do this?”

“Ew, _weird_. That makes it sound like we’re about to murder someone, not like we’re about to kiss.”

Hajime’s only response is to roll his eyes.

“Carry me to your room, Iwa-chan,” Tooru commands.

Hajime has him tighten his legs around his waist before scooping him up, one hand on his back, the other cradling his ass. 

He almost drops him, but only because Tooru startles him by pressing kisses to the side of his neck. 

“Just wait, asshole,” Hajime huffs in annoyance. Tooru only continues to press kisses to his neck, slowly moving up behind his ear. 

He shoulders open the door to his room and tosses Tooru unceremoniously onto the bed, quickly crawling on after him. Tooru giggles, poking and prodding at Hajime until he has him positioned exactly how he wants: leaning against the wall, long legs stretched out, with Tooru settled on his lap. Hajime finds his warm weight comforting. The terrible things he’d experienced in the past week start to fade away. He can only focus on the good things that’ve happened, which, he realizes, _far outweigh the bad_. 

Hajime admires Tooru’s face. It’s _so_ close. He can feel his breath. Hajime takes in the pale skin, the faint freckles dusting his nose and cheeks, pink lips that look really soft. He carefully searches Tooru’s brown eyes, eyes that always make Hajime nostalgic for a childhood long past, but eager for a future, filled with this person he had chosen so very long ago. 

Hajime leans forward to kiss him. _Finally_. 

“Iwa-chan, wait!” 

Hajime slumps back. His head hits the wall behind him with a “thump” and he groans, _“What?”_

Tooru looks suddenly agitated. He places a slender finger on Hajime’s lips to keep him quiet. 

Hands waving, he hurriedly explains, “This is _important_ , Iwa-chan! I have to know, are we boyfriends now? Because I really want to skip the part where we date for a bit, dance around each other, and _then_ decide to be boyfriends. It seems kind of pointless for us, right? I’ve known you my whole life and I’m absolutely sure you’re _it_ for me. So can’t we just go straight to the best part? Sorry-” Tooru bites at his lip “-I just really want to call you my boyfriend. I’m being stupid. We can talk about this later.”

Hajime is so in love with him. He removes Tooru’s finger from his lips and stares at the wall, lost in thought. 

After a quiet second, he murmurs to himself, “Hi, this is my boyfriend, Oikawa Tooru. He’s gonna be a professional volleyball player someday…” He trails off, still thinking hard. 

He’d only wanted to test the words out on his tongue. 

They felt good. _Really good._

He opens his mouth, intending to tell Tooru as such, but breaks into a laugh as soon as he sees notices brown eyes, wide and completely stunned.

“I was practicing,” Hajime explains casually, enjoying the way Tooru’s eyes are now shining. “I wanted to know how it sounded. I liked it. Tooru, of course I want to be your boyfriend. Or we could just skip to the part where we’re married old dudes who sit on our porch all day and chuck pinecones at the kids who trespass on our lawn.”

Tooru’s strangled yelp makes Hajime curl over to smother his laughter in Tooru’s chest, huffing, “Kidding, kidding!” 

Then, voice pensive, he adds, “You know, someone should’ve chucked a pinecone at Kaito’s head when he was a kid.”

Tooru, looking very perturbed, gets right up in Hajime’s face. With their noses brushing, he declares, “Makki and Mattsun have nothing on you, Iwa-chan. You’re an absolutely evil man, teasing me with marriage!” 

_“What?”_ Hajime cries in self-defense. “You’re the one that so kindly placed something small and gold in my hand not even thirty minutes ago!"

“I don’t know why my mom ever wanted me to become friends with you,” Tooru sniffs. 

That’s when Hajime notices how close Tooru’s brown eyes are to his own face. He likes the way his eyelashes sweep upward dramatically, much more prominently than his own do. He’s never noticed that before. He wants to discover more new things with Tooru. 

Like, _right now_. He’s doesn’t want to wait anymore. 

“Oh my god, just fucking put your mouth on my mouth already!” 

Tooru cackles, but relents and leans forward to press their mouths together for the first time. He uses a little more than necessary and Hajime can feel Tooru’s cheeks, protruding and rounded because he’s smiling so hard. They’re smushing into Hajime’s own.He almost makes fun of him before he realizes he’s grinning ear to ear as well. It’s less of a kiss and more just smiling against each other. Hajime can’t say he hates it.

However, he has to pull away when he starts laughing. He pushes his face into Tooru’s neck and manages to snort out, “That was _barely_ a kiss. Oh my god, why are we so bad at this?”

Tooru starts giggling. He doesn’t come off nearly as annoyed as he’s trying to be when he huffs, “Practice! More practice right now! Everyone knows that second kisses are _way_ more important than first kisses anyway! Second kisses are the new first kisses!”

Hajime starts laughing so hard he has to cover his mouth. After they both manage to calm themselves, he grins at Tooru and says, “You’re an absolute genius. Get back here. I want my second kiss.”

Tooru places his hands on Hajime’s shoulders and leans in. Very purposefully, he places his lips very gently on Hajime’s. After a moment, he pulls back and asks, “Again?”

Hajime nods distractedly, eyes still on Tooru’s lips. Tooru kisses him again, but his time he slowly brushes their lips together, moving his lips against Hajime’s own, slowly guiding them through a kiss. 

Hajime quickly loses himself. Tooru’s lips are _so_ soft. _How’d they get that soft? He’s so attentive too…_

He sucks on Hajime’s bottom so gently and it immediately makes Hajime ache for _more_. 

It takes a moment for him to shake himself out of his stupor and actually participate, instead of merely following Tooru’s lead. Hajime starts pushing back more intently, learning new things about Tooru with every passing moment. He tries for an exploratory lick at the seam of Tooru’s mouth and finds himself let in eagerly. Tooru swipes back with his own tongue. 

It’s wet, but as Hajime curiously explores the inside of Tooru’s mouth, he finds himself quickly becoming _obsessed_. He could do this with Tooru for _hours_. 

Everything else fades as they make out. Soft, wet sounds and the quiet brush of skin fill the room as they explore each other. Hajime lets out a satisfied hum when he manages to coax a tiny whine out of Tooru. Their kisses grow sloppy and increasingly more wet and even though they’re new at this and definitely inexperienced, Hajime _adores_ it. He doesn’t want this with anyone else. _Ever_. He doesn’t want to _learn_ about things like this _with_ anyone else. It _has_ to be Tooru.

Thoughts of the what he still has yet to learn about Tooru, _with_ Tooru, blossom and take over his mind. 

In between kisses, he manages to growl out, “ _Forever_. I want this _forever_ , Tooru. You hear me?”

He can feel Tooru’s shaky inhale on his lips. Tooru swallows and breathlessly pants, “I’ve never been able to refuse you anything. I don’t want anyone else to have you like this either. You’re _mine_. _Forever_.”

Hajime yanks him back in and starts peppering kisses along Tooru’s cheek, up to his forehead, across his chin, back to his ear. The entire time Tooru is stroking a thumb reverently over Hajime’s jawline, eyes closed as he allows himself to be lavished with kisses. 

With one last, prolonged kiss along Tooru’s jaw, Hajime leans back, but only so far as to look his new boyfriend in the eye. The tips of their noses brush and Hajime can still taste Tooru on his tongue when he murmurs, “I love you. I _love_ you.”

Tooru’s eyes go glassy again, but he’s nodding fervidly, nose bumping against Hajime’s as his head moves up and down. “Me too. I love you back. _Just you_ ,” he manages to say through little hiccups.

Hajime wants to press himself as close to Tooru as possible. His heart aches for the boy in his arms. He pulls Tooru into the tightest hug he can, slightly overwhelmed. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face into the hot skin of Tooru’s neck. 

Tooru’s arms, draped over Hajime’s shoulders, tighten until he’s holding Hajime just as fiercely. With his slightly elevated position, he’s able to push his forehead into Hajime’s hair, just above his ear. He holds Hajime like he’s afraid to let go.

After a few, quiet minutes filled only with shaky breaths, Hajime’s arm muscles start to fatigue from how tightly he’s holding onto his best friend, his _new_ _boyfriend_. Hajime hears an inhale and senses that Tooru wants to say something, but when he tries to pull away to look him in the eyes, Tooru merely tightens his hold and nuzzles into Hajime’s hair. 

When Tooru finally speaks, his voice is whispery and thoughtful. “Hajime, everyone says you’re not supposed to know anything at eighteen. But there’s one thing I’m certain of. I _know_ that you’re the most important thing to ever happen to me. I knew that even when we were seven years old. No matter where our futures take us, I will _always_ find my way back to you. _I promise_.” 

He looks up at Hajime through lowered eyelashes and tentatively asks, “Do you believe me?”

“Of course I believe you. And I promise the same thing, idiot.” Hajime bites into Tooru’s neck to drive his point home. Then, against the same spot, he mumbles, “You don’t lie to me.”

He can hear Tooru sniffling before he hears, “You’re too important to lie to.”

“Oi! Are you crying up there?”

“Maybe just a little.”

“Are you gonna loosen your death squeeze on me so I can look at you?”

Tooru relaxes slightly, but leaves his arms wrapped around Hajime. 

Once their faces are millimeters apart again, Hajime murmurs, “You’re so pretty.”

He kisses him and suckles gently on Tooru’s lower lip. When he leans back, he carefully wipes away a few stray tears left on Tooru’s cheeks. 

“Aren’t you gonna cry too? I’ve cried way too much this week and it’s not fair that it’s just been me,” Tooru asks with a wet laugh. 

Hajime snorts and gives Tooru another sweet, lingering kiss. “My body is so low on energy right now and any energy I _do_ have, is devoted to you. I think it would literally shut down if I tried to make it do anything else,” he says with a smile.

Tooru rests his head on Hajime’s shoulder and closes his eyes. He barely manages to cover a huge yawn before he groans, “ _Ugh_ , me fucking too, Iwa-chan. Turns out, bottling your love up for years then having it all burst forth in the span of, like, ten minutes, will tucker a dude out.”

“Sleep over?”

“ _Oooh_ , sleep or _sleep,_ Hajime?” Tooru pops his eyes open and waggles his eyebrows, but the effect he’s going for is ruined by the dark circles rimming his eyes.

“Whichever has me spooning you and dreaming of chucking pinecones at Kaito faster.”

Tooru throws back his head and groans so filthily that, for a moment, Hajime worries he really _does_ want to try sex tonight. 

But Tooru cuts off his dirty moan, smirks at him, and teases, “That’s the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever said and I was there for your presentation on the Fall of Rome last year, so I know what I’m talking about. Passing the fuck out sounds absolutely _amazing_ right now. Can I borrow some pajamas?”

Hajime shoves him down to the bed with a laugh. Cackling, Tooru conveniently lands with his head on the pillow. Hajime rolls his eyes affectionately and says, “You literally have your own stuff right there-” Hajime points at the bottom drawer of his dresser, a space Tooru completely took over years ago, “-I’m _sure_ there’s something in there for you to sleep in.”

“But I want _your_ clothes, Iwa-chan! As my boyfriend you _have_ to give me your clothes so I can walk around with them, like, super sexily draped off me and barely clinging to my beautiful, slim figure. How can I possibly wake you up in the morning if I’m not looking all hot and disheveled? I have to tempt you with my body as I serve you a homemade breakfast in bed! I have to be a _seductive siren_ for you, Iwa-chan!”

Hajime snorts with laughter, shaking his head in disbelief at Tooru, yet still completely charmed. After a moment, he huffs, “You have way too many dumb ideas stored in that head of yours. Also, I’m not letting you anywhere near my kitchen. So go to sleep, you weirdo.”

“Fine! But I’m sleeping in my boxers and _only_ my boxers! _Oh Hajime_ , how will you ever restrain yourself with all this tempting bare skin next you _allllll_ night!” Tooru whips off his shirt and pants and runs his hands over his bare chest while smirking at Hajime. 

“I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again, Shittykawa.”

Clad only in his boxers, Tooru blows a raspberry at him and dives into bed, shuffling under the blankets.

Hajime removes his own shirt and pants. He turns the lights off, climbs into bed, and sidles up behind Tooru to spoon him, just as he’d promised. Into the warm, soft skin of Tooru’s shoulder, voice dripping with sarcasm, he mumbles, “ _Ohhh_ , _sooo_ much bare skin, Tooru. How will I ever cope?” He blows a raspberry into Tooru’s shoulder and adds, “Go to sleep, asshole. I’m exhausted.”

Through a massive yawn, Tooru manages to huff out, “I’ve never been less attracted to you. You’re a bastard and I hate you. Time for a pre-divorce or whatever I called it. Actually, I think that’ll be a problem for tomorrow’s Tooru. Now is the time for sleep. Goodnight kiss?”

Hajime hums thoughtfully. “Can I wake you up by putting my cold toes in your side?”

“It wouldn’t be a sleepover with Iwa-chan if you didn’t. I’m _expecting_ it.”

“Good,” Hajime says, satisfied. He pushes up and presses a sweet, lingering kiss to Tooru’s temple before he settles down, chest pressed against the person he loves more than anything. 

Tooru grabs his hand and pulls it over his waist, curling their fingers together. 

“Night, Iwa-chan.” In a voice so tiny and pleased that he might’ve only been talking to himself, Tooru adds, “I love you.”

Hajime presses his forehead into the back of Tooru’s neck and whispers, “I love you too, Tooru. _No take backs allowed_.”

Beneath a ceiling peppered with glowing, long-loved plastic stars, Hajime listens to Tooru’s soft, even breaths, and, comfortably nestled against the most reassuring presence he’s ever known, he soon finds himself lulled into a deep, restful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I've been amazed at how much love people gave this fic. There's one last chapter to post. It's basically smut, but it's realllllly soft smut. 
> 
> Also, would anyone be interested in reading a fic (in this same universe) about Tooru using Hajime's idea to confess once a week just to annoy him? I have a couple ideas for that one...
> 
> Anyway, thank you all again for reading this! It's been such a joy to read your comments! They always make me smile at my computer like a dope.
> 
> Here's my twitter: [check me out if you're interested!](https://twitter.com/Garicole_G)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some soft smut and promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for sticking with me throughout this whole fic! This chapter got soooo long, so it took some extra time to edit. And I just couldn't stop myself from adding MORE fluffy moments and then MORE smut...It got out of hand. 
> 
> This smut is gonna be hella soft since it's iwaoi's first time. They're mostly just exploring each other and trying new things. Hope you like it!

“You’re sure your mom won’t magically come home early from her business trip, right? I don’t want to be interrupted _again_ ,” Tooru asks for the third time.

_Yes_ , it’s only been a week. Sue him. Both of them are ready. Tooru’s a horny dude and his boyfriend is hot as fuck and they’ve _basically_ been dating forever anyway. If they want to try some sex stuff, _they’re gonna try some sex stuff._ Plus, he _really_ wants to see Hajime naked, and not in a “we’re-seven-and-taking-a-bath-together” way, but in a “we’re-eighteen-and-I-wanna-suck-your-dick” kinda way.

And no matter _what_ Hajime says, yesterday in the gym closet _does not_ _count_. In fact, he’s pretty sure traumatizing Kindaichi, like, _subtracts_ points from your Sex Counter or something. 

So now, not only has Tooru _not_ had sex before, but he’s had sex _negative one times_.

Their hasty, semi-naked grinding in that stuffy closet didn’t even tame the tug in his gut telling him to devour Hajime.

So yeah, he refuses to feel bad that they’re already experimenting. Hajime’s mom is traveling for business and they have the house to themselves, so it’s the perfect chance. They aren’t even going all the way! They just want to explore a little bit. For _years,_ Tooru would shut down any thought about doing this with Iwa-chan. Well, he had _tried_ to shut down those thoughts and ended up failing miserably. _But,_ from what Hajime has told him this past week, he’d also completely failed to keep those dirty thoughts away. 

So they both decided the universe owes them a break.

But now, sitting here, cross-legged and facing Hajime in his house, his room, _his_ _childhood_ _bed_ , Tooru’s hunger fades into the background and he’s left feeling curious, nervous, and slightly eager. 

They’ve both just finished showering off their after-practice sweat here at the house. Hajime had asked Tooru to join him in the shower, but Tooru insisted that they should do their first time “right.”

Tooru’s brought back to the present when Hajime groans. 

“Yes, _Tooru_ , I’m sure. Mom’s not back for another three days. Here, I’ll even lock my door.” Hajime slides off the bed and turns the lock on the doorknob. He shoots Tooru a look and says, “Happy?"

Tooru scowls. “No, I’m _not_ happy. Come back to me. I miss you.”

Hajime grins and returns to his pouting boyfriend. He kisses the top of Tooru’s head, mussing his freshly washed hair, and settles against the wall, legs outstretched and slightly spread. He watches Tooru expectantly, eyes shining with a hint of both excitement and wide-eyed curiosity. 

Tooru gets up to his knees and shuffles along the bed, legs ruffling the navy comforter that Hajime’s had since they were eleven. Tooru moves to hover over his best friend, knees on either side of Hajime’s thighs.

“Is this okay?” Tooru asks quietly.

“I don’t mind it.”

“Well, you wanna mind it a little more?”

Hajime laughs, “I’ve been minding you my whole life.”

Smile turning soft, Tooru settles down on his boyfriend’s lap and presses their foreheads together. He searches green eyes and bites his lip before murmuring, “I think this might be a little different.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Yes.”

“Me too. We can stop anytime, okay? We’ll only go as far as you want to.” Hajime takes Tooru’s face in his cupped hands and bumps their noses together.

“Ok, yeah. I mean, _yes,_ that’s good. A-and same to you, only as far as _you_ want.” Tooru licks his lip and adds, “Sorry, mostly I’m just kinda in shock that I’m finally _allowed_ this, here, now, _with you_.”

“I’ll allow you anything for as long as I live.”

Instantly, Tooru feels his cheeks flame up. He slumps forward in embarrassment to press his forehead into the wall, right next to Hajime’s head. He bumps into the plaster with a soft “thunk.” 

“Iwa-chan! You’re supposed to save that sort of talk for really special, romantic occasions! It’s most definitely _not_ allowed on a random Friday night when we’re about toawkwardly attempt sex stuff,” he groans. 

Hajime turns and kisses Tooru’s ear before complaining petulantly, “And why shouldn’t this be one of those times? We’ve been together our whole lives and I think every moment with you is pretty special. And anyway, how would _you_ know what kind of talk is and isn’t allowed in bed? I know for a fact _you’ve_ never done anything. _Well_ , with the exception of our fun closet-sex with Kindaichi yesterday.” 

Tooru looks at Hajime with pursed lips and hisses, “Yesterday _didn’t_ happen, Iwa-chan!”

For good measure, he whacks Hajime lightly on the shoulder. It only causes him to snort with laughter. 

“And you’re wrong. I’ve done _some things_ before. Some very very _sexy_ things!” Tooru declares while stroking his boyfriend’s jawline teasingly. “I, Oikawa Tooru, did sexy stuff with… _Oh, Hajime,_ I’m just _so_ very deeply sorry! I-I…” he trails off, wiping a fake tear from his eye and wearing a tortured expression. He’s barely restraining a grin.

“Fuckin’ what?” Hajime asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I did it with…Oh, _Hajime_! I’m so deeply sorry! How will you ever forgive me!” 

“Just spit out whatever stupid thing you’re about to say.”

With a crow of delight, Tooru rises up to his knees, points a finger at Hajime, and yelps, “Your _mom_! Oh shit! Take that, Iwa-chan!”

Laughter bubbles up from Hajime’s lips. Grinning, he says, “You asshole! Your fling with my mom has absolutely _nothing_ on the passionate love affair between me and your mother! Wait, this whole stupid Kaito situation was just a set up so that you could finally get back at me for all those stupid mom jokes, wasn’t it?

“Yup! The part where we got together after years of being in love is just a very fortunate bonus,” Tooru happily proclaims before placing a light kiss on Hajime’s lips. 

“ _Mmm_ , very fortunate indeed.” 

Hajime’s smile is so warm and sincere that it makes Tooru’s heart clench in affection. He lightly noses along Hajime’s cheek before making his way down to follow his jawline, then back into his hair and along his ear. 

He cherishes the skin-on-skin contact, marveling that he can touch Hajime like this now, that it’s no longer forbidden. All week, he’d taken every chance he could to indulge in this newfound opportunity, from trailing his fingers over Iwa-chan’s arm, to pulling him into a supply closet for a hasty make out session, to giving him a kiss on the cheek when he thought no one was looking. He hadn’t held himself back. Hajime hadn’t either. The PDA has been driving Makki and Mattsun nuts. 

It’s not until Hajime’s breath hitches as Tooru places gentle kisses along the shell of his ear that Tooru realizes he might, _accidentally_ of course _,_ be teasing his boyfriend, just a little.

So he pulls back to whisper, “You can touch me if you want.”

Looking slightly nervous, Hajime gingerly places his right hand on Tooru’s hip. He glances up, silently waiting for the okay to continue.

Tooru bites his lip and nods, settling his hand over the one Hajime already has on him. He moves the bottom of his shirt out of the way so that his boyfriend’s warm palm is brushing skin. Hajime watches Tooru closely and raises his left hand to Tooru’s other hip. Again, Tooru follows the motion with his own hand.

Their eyes meet.

“What’s next?” Hajime asks quietly. 

“You want this as much as I do?”

“ _Yes._ I want this with you.”

“Okay, t-take my shirt off for me?”

Hajime places a kiss on Tooru’s still-clothed chest, right over his heart, before dipping his hands beneath the shirt and sliding his palms up over Tooru’s ribs. Still up on his knees, Tooru lifts his arms to help as Hajime carefully peels the clothing from his body, revealing a muscled expanse of pale skin.

Hajime maintains eye contact even as he tosses the shirt to the side.

Tooru nods, another silent okay to continue, and watches Hajime’s eyes rake over his naked torso before locking onto his nipples. If they were doing anything else, Tooru would tease him, but right now he’s entranced by the way Hajime gazes at his body hungrily, the way his mouth parts when he stares at his chest. 

Tooru reaches up to tweak one of his own nipples and says, voice low, “C’mon, Hajime. Put your mouth on me. _I want it_.”

Hajime’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but in seconds he’s carefully guiding Tooru’s hips forward. He brushes another sweet kiss over Tooru’s chest before wrapping his lips around a pink nipple, swiping his tongue over it before suckling gently. Tooru gasps and pushes into his mouth, already aching for more. Hajime holds his hips still, swirling his tongue around the bud until it stiffens and Tooru is breathless and panting. After a moment, Hajime bites down and quickly flicks his tongue back and forth over the hardened tip still trapped behind his teeth. Tooru groans and sinks his nails into Hajime’s shoulders, causing him to quickly release and soothe over the pebbled bud with his tongue. 

The feeling of Hajime’s wet mouth on his body is enough to have Tooru’s cock stiffening in his pants. He can feel precum wetting his boxers and shudders when Hajime shifts and causes the sticky mess to brush against the tip of his cock. He’s never told anyone how extremely sensitive his nipples are. Now Hajime is the only other person to have that knowledge. 

Tooru threads his fingers into Hajime’s hair and pulls him to his other nipple. Hajime immediately bites down before suctioning the whole thing into his mouth, tongue clumsy as it plays with the bud and areola. Tooru’s hips twitch forward and he feels Hajime’s erection rub against his leg.

They both let out a sigh. 

Hajime continues, repeatedly switching back and forth between nipples. Tooru goads him on with moans and quiet whines of, “ _Yes, so good, Hajime. So good to me_.” He smooths his hands over Hajime’s hair, caressing him, _adoring_ him. Hajime lets out happy little hums every time he coaxes a whine out of Tooru. After another minute, Tooru breathlessly pleads, “Hajime, you too? I want to try it on you, please?” 

Hajime gives one last, long suck at Tooru’s nipple, then a quick kiss to the center of his chest, before leaning back to pull his own shirt off. Tooru eagerly pushes him down to the bed and as soon as Hajime is settled, he sits on him, long legs folded and framing Hajime’s thighs. He smooths his hand along the bare torso, following the expanse of warm skin, darker than his own.

Hajime watches him with pink cheeks. When Tooru looks up and with a tilt to his head, Hajime nods and murmurs, “I-I may not be as sensitive as you are, but go ahead. Try it.”

Tooru trails his fingers along Hajime’s body, running them along his happy trail, fingering the dark, coarse hair, before moving up his stomach. He tracks the slopes of abdominals, the ridges of his ribs. He slides his palms up to Hajime’s chest, relishing the thick muscle beneath his touch. With his other hand, he lightly traces a finger around a brown nipple and watches, hypnotized, as it stiffens. 

_I did that_ , Tooru realizes in amazement, _Me, my touch. Hajime reacted to me._

Heart thumping, Tooru leans down and tentatively licks at the nipple with just the tip of his tongue. He glances up with a raised eyebrow, but Hajime just tilts his head and stares back. Tooru licks again, lapping over the stiff bud, but when he still doesn’t get a reaction from Hajime, he bites down. _Hard_. 

Hajime groans and his hips twitch up against Tooru’s, grinding them together. 

Tooru releases Hajime’s chest and pokes teasingly at the wet nipple. He twists the little bud between his fingers and peeks up again. Hajime just shrugs his shoulders apologetically. 

Curled over his boyfriend, Tooru crosses his arms, rests his chin on them and frowns up at Hajime. “Iwa-chan isn’t as sensitive as I am,” he pouts.

“I liked the biting. You, uh, made that really good,” Hajime says with a breathless little laugh. 

Tooru beams. “Should I try that some more?”

“ _Please.”_

This time, when he nips at a dusky brown nipples, Hajime squirms. Tooru moves to the dense muscle of his pecs and bites down before smoothing his tongue over the reddened spot. He switches to Hajime’s other nipple and clamps his teeth deep into the skin, marking Hajime. Hajime lets out a gasp that turns into a deep groan when Tooru bites down again. 

Tooru finds himself delighting in Hajime’s body, the taste of skin, warm and clean, the way Hajime writhes beneath his touch. He sits up so he can admire the swathes of little red and purple blooms he’s created. 

Satisfied with the work of art beneath him, Tooru moves to Hajime’s collarbone, quick to start anew. He trails light kisses up Hajime’s neck before biting down, working on a new spot just underneath the jawline. Hajime keeps letting out these restrained whines and beautiful, soft, little groans whenever Tooru’s bite is slightly harsher, deeper. 

After a few minutes, Tooru forces himself to pull away. Hajime’s reactions are starting to get to him a little _too_ much. There are still some things he wants to try before this is over. 

Hajime glances down at his own chest and just snorts when he sees the mess Tooru’s made. 

Tooru’s mouth twists in confusion as he says, “ _Hmm_ , so Iwa-chan’s nipples aren’t as sensitive as mine, but maybe mine are way more sensitive than they should be? That’s not something I should be worried about, is it? Do I need to go see a doctor?” Tooru looks pensively at his own chest, a tiny furrow between his brows, and pokes one of his nipples. 

He jumps, startled, when a carefree laugh bursts from Hajime’s throat. 

“I think you’re fine. And I really like your cute nipples,” Hajime tells him, smiling and smoothing his hands up and down Tooru’s thighs.

“Maybe Iwa-chan is sensitive in other places?” 

“You’re welcome to find out.” 

Hajime grins and Tooru can tell that now that they’ve begun to explore their bodies together, they’re both a lot less nervous and definitely more eager than they were twenty minutes ago. 

With a confidence that startles even himself, Tooru declares, “I want to know what your cock feels like in my mouth.”

Hajime’s eyes widen and he quickly throws an arm over his face. He lets out a muffled, high pitched whine. 

Tooru wishes he could’ve swallowed it.

After a moment, Hajime lowers his arm, his cheeks red and pupils blown wide. He wets his lips and murmurs, “Yeah, okay. I-I want to try _everything_ with you. _Anything_. _Everything._ ”

Tooru is so in love with this boy. However, he tries not to burst out laughing as he says, “Like handcuffs? Remember when you said you’d pick handcuffs as your favorite kink?”

“Oh my god! Why are you like this? We aren’t trying that now. That’s something we have to, like, work our way up to, idiot!”

“But I want to call you ‘daddy!’”

Hajime immediately stiffens and squeezes his eyes shut. Taking pity on him, Tooru laughs and says, “Sorry, sorry. I was just teasing. We’ll save that for another time.”

Hajime peeps one eye open, looking guilty and apologetic as he mumbles, “It’s just, uh, I _might_ have a few more kinks than I originally thought.”

Tooru grins. “Well that’s always been obvious to _me_ … _Daddy_.”

“What!? No it hasn’t! And don’t call me that right now!”

“ _Sorry_ ,” Tooru laughs. “But, hey, don’t feel bad. I like that you’re into stuff and that you want to try it with me. And anyway, everyone knows it’s the people you least expect that are the kinkiest. So _I,_ personally, already knew you were a closet kinkster because I know you better than anyone,” he proclaims proudly. 

“You say the weirdest shit,” Hajime snorts. “Come back and kiss me. You need to shut up and that seems to be the only thing that actually works.” He puckers his mouth, making exaggerated, puffed up, kissy-lips and horrific smooching noises at Tooru.

Tooru lets loose a short peel of bright laughter but relents and presses their mouths together once more. He can feel the curve of Hajime’s smile beneath his lips. However, it fades as Hajime begins to eagerly respond, swiping his tongue along the seam of Tooru’s mouth with obvious intent. Tooru parts his lips with a whine and Hajime hungrily plunges in, using his tongue to explore every part of his mouth until they’re both groaning and grinding their hips together.

Tooru relaxes and lets Hajime explore his body in a way in a way no one else ever has, in a way no one but Hajime ever will. 

He’s the first one to pull away, panting, but Hajime is unwilling to remove his lips from Tooru’s body and immediately latches onto the pale column of his throat. 

Between greedy, wet kisses, Hajime huffs, “Never left a hickey on anyone before. Can I?”

Tooru can’t nod fast enough.

Hajime grins and bites down harshly. With a weak whine, Tooru throws his head back to give his boyfriend more skin to work on as his neck is thoroughly kissed and bitten.  
For a few minutes the only sounds are Tooru’s happy sighs and the wet noises Hajime makes as he marks his boyfriend. 

Finally, Tooru asks, “Can I take off your pants?”

When he doesn’t get a reply, he flicks Hajime’s ear and calls, “Hey! Iwa-chan! Pants?”

Hajime detaches himself for only a second to grunt “ _yes_ ” before immediately latching back on to work on a new spot. 

Tooru whacks him lightly on the shoulder. “Hey! Stupid-chan! I can’t take your pants off like this! You gotta let me go!”

Hajime finally pulls away with a huff. “Then just take _everything_ off! That way we don’t have to stop again.”

Tooru smiles and cheers, “Iwa-chan is so efficient!”

“I just don’t want you to move away from me again! I like you _here_ , on top of me, where I can hold you. _Wait_ , did you just call me ‘Stupid-chan?’”

“No. Now watch me take my clothes off.”

Tooru climbs off the bed and faces Hajime, slowly unbuttoning his pants. As he pulls the zipper down, he tries for an alluring smirk, but when Hajime just flips him the middle finger, Tooru can’t prevent his laughter from bursting out. He sticks his tongue out at Hajime and blows a raspberry, all while wiggling his hips suggestively and doing a little dance. He sings, “Like what you see, Iwa-chan?” 

Hajime hums thoughtfully, “Well, okay, _yes_ , _but_ I’m just now realizing that it makes so much sense that you’d be into all this-” he vaguely waves a hand “-exhibitionism and shit.”

Tooru looks away from Hajime with a huff, declaring, “I’m going to be the bigger person and choose to ignore your hurtful tone.”

A bright laugh bursts from Hajime’s lips before he snorts, “How ‘bout you start doing that every time I insult you? If you just ignore me, I’ll never have to hear your awful comebacks again.”

Tooru gasps and presses a hand to his chest in exaggerated shock. “I can’t believe you! You know what, I take it back! I’m _not_ going to be the bigger person. Take this Stupid-chan!” And he whips off his pants and throws them at Hajime’s head, quickly followed by his boxers.

Hajime isn’t fast enough and flinches as a pair of boxers and a single pant leg slap him across the face. He stills, making no move to remove the clothing draped over his head.

Breathless with laughter, Tooru dives forward, snorting, “Oh my god, Iwa-chan, I’m sorry! You okay under there?” Tooru whisks the clothing to the floor, only to reveal one of his favorite sights in the whole world: his Iwa-chan, breathless with silent laughter.

Grinning, Tooru snorts, “I thought you’d duck out of the way!” 

Still laughing, Hajime cups the back of Tooru’s neck and presses their foreheads together so that they’re giggling and huffing into the same air. 

Once they both calm, he simply shakes his head at Tooru fondly and leans forward to briefly brush their lips together. 

Hajime gazes at Tooru, looking at him as if _he_ was the sole reason all the stars, galaxies, and constellations speckled the night sky. 

He murmurs something.

Tooru stills, then- 

“Say that again. _Please_ , _Hajime_ , say it again, _please_ ,” he begs.

And Hajime does. Eyes crinkled with affection, he softly repeats, “How’d I get so lucky with you?”

Tooru feels a tear slip down his cheek. He’s never been as happy as he has this past week.

Hajime brushes away the single tear and strokes a thumb over his cheekbone. Once again, he smiles and asks, “How did I get so lucky with you?”

Tooru surges forward, his nudity completely forgotten, and kisses Hajime. He keeps it chaste, trying to express a lifetime of love in one kiss. He needs to show Hajime that it’s actually the other way around; it’s _Tooru_ who’s the lucky one. 

Tooru rests their foreheads together again and murmurs, “You’ve always been it for me, Hajime. _Just you._ ” 

_“Do you mean it? Just me?”_

_“Just you. Forever. No take backs.”_

“Of course. We made a promise. Just you and me, forever and ever,” Hajime replies, staring into brown eyes with an affection that Tooru isn’t used to seeing, not even from his own parents. 

Hajime runs a hand reverently down his chest, settling at his waist, before pulling him down in his lap, hard. He keeps a tight grip on Tooru’s bare hips. 

And Tooru _wants_ him. He doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants to touch Hajime and be touched in return. He wants to lose himself with this man. 

So he kisses him, quick to tangle their tongues together and turn it wet and filthy. He moves his nimble fingers eagerly towards Hajime’s pants, unbuttoning him and pulling down the zipper. 

“I have to get off of you again so I can get your damn pants off,” he whispers while wearing a tiny smile. 

“Don’t wanna let you go. This is what I was trying to prevent earlier,” Hajime grumbles.

Tooru snorts and climbs off, completely missing the way Hajime stares, devouring his lithe, muscled body with his eyes.

Tooru grasps the ankles of Hajime’s pants and pulls hard, releasing a sigh of content when he finally reveals those thick, muscled thighs covered in soft, dark hair. He runs a hand up and down Hajime’s legs, enjoying the texture of the strands passing beneath his touch. 

He knows Hajime is sensitive about his body hair. He’d been mercilessly teased about it in middle school. Kids had told him it was ugly, gross. Tooru had been outraged, partly because he despises bullies, but partly because he’s always had a bit of a _fixation_ on Hajime’s body hair. He _loves_ how different his boyfriend’s body is from his own. 

Tooru plants a kiss on a thick, hair-covered thigh and says, “Much better. Underwear too?”

“Fuck yeah.” Hajime wiggles his hips, shuffling around to remove his boxers himself. 

And then he’s completely naked before Tooru. 

_Iwa-chan. Naked. For me._

The first time Tooru had imagined _this_ he’d been only thirteen. That was the first time he’d touched himself. Afterwards, he’d felt so ashamed. 

Now, he allows himself to openly stare at Hajime, taking in the tanned chest, peppered with love bites; the dark nipples, still glistening and stiff from the attention Tooru’s mouth had lavished them with. Tooru drags his eyes down to a dense thatch of dark pubic hair that leads to a thick cock and heavy balls. His mouth waters and he feels his face grow hot. 

When he looks back at Hajime, he finds that he, too, is raking his eyes all over Tooru’s bare skin, staring at his naked body. 

Tooru suddenly feels self-conscious in a way he’s never felt around Hajime before. In a quiet, tentative voice, he asks, “I-Is this okay? Am _I_ okay?”

“You’re perfect. Your body is perfect,” Hajime breathes, green eyes sweeping up to Tooru’s. “Come back and let me touch you?”

Tooru nods, climbs back onto the bed, and straddles those thighs that never fail to make him hot with desire. He can’t keep his eyes from trailing down to Hajime’s stiff cock. It stands proudly, sprouting from a nestle of dark, wiry hair. The tip is red and dripping precum.

His movement causes their cocks to brush together. Hajime groans at the same time Tooru lets out a happy sigh. They both freeze, but when their eyes meet, they let out matching snorts of laughter. 

“Do you think this’ll go embarrassingly bad or surprisingly good?” Hajime asks with a grin.

“It’ll be perfect because Iwa-chan is perfect,” Tooru says firmly. He tentatively touches the base of Hajime’s cock, fingering the hairs there. “Can I still put my mouth on you?”

The cock twitches and a bead of precum beads from the slit. 

“Uh, yeah, i-if that’s what you want,” Hajime says, slightly breathless 

Tooru moves fast. He didn’t think he’d be this excited. In moments, he has Hajime flat on his back, pinned to the bed. 

“ _So_ ,” he wonders, “are you sensitive _here_?” He strokes two featherlight fingers over Hajime’s balls. The accompanying gasp is answer enough and so he explores further, rolling the sac around in his hand.

Tooru looks up, only to discover Hajime panting, one white-knuckled hand clenched into the comforter. 

“Is this okay?” 

Hajime nods, cheeks red. 

So Tooru leans in and gives the balls a tentative lick, exploring them with careful strokes of his tongue. He gently sucks one into his mouth and releases it with a soft “pop.” Then he does the same to the other. Hajime throws his head back on the pillow and whines as Tooru pulls off and begins to mouth up his cock, skimming his fingers over every spot he’s just brushed with his lips. Tooru eagerly memorizes every gasp and pant, cataloguing every bit of new information he discovers about his lover.

He swipes over the red head with his tongue and immediately Hajime’s cock throbs in his hand. Precum pulses from the tip and Tooru licks that up too. 

With a deep moan, Hajime’s spine arches off the bed and then sprawls out on his navy-blue comforter, every bit of him on display for Tooru and gasping, “Tooru, like, not this instant, but if you keep that up, I’m definitely gonna come really fast. Is that okay?”

Tooru hums in satisfaction, as though he’s just gotten a taste of his favorite snack, and says, “That’s what I want. We don’t have to everything _now._ We have our whole lives to try this stuff with each other. Besides, this is our first time, so it’s bound to be fast, right?” 

With a tight voice, Hajime replies, “Yeah, y-yeah. We’ve got all the time in the world. You’re right.”

_Our whole lives…_

Tooru places an affectionate kiss on his hip and returns to his erection.

He’s seen Iwa-chan naked before, in showers after practice, occasionally at sleepovers as they slip into pajamas. And thanks to Makki and Mattsun’s impromptu dick measuring contests, he knows Hajime is bigger than everyone else on their team, but up close like this, he’s quick to discover how massive Hajime really is. 

Tooru feels his mouth water and he messily licks Hajime’s cock again. It’s not like he’s _trying_ to be sloppy, he’s just _new_ at this. However, Hajime doesn’t seem to care. He’s writhing and groaning as Tooru laps down his cock and sucks on his balls again, squirms rumpling the bedspread. 

Soon though, Tooru wants to experiment more. Using both hands, he carefully guides the head of Hajime’s cock to his mouth. He pokes at the slit with his tongue. 

Hajime gasps and threads one hand through Tooru’s hair, the other clenched into the bedspread. He sounds desperate when he moans, “Tooru, _please_ , so good, a-and too much. Gonna come. _So close_.”

Tooru _loves_ him; his voice, his reactions, _everything_. He hums happily and the vibrations make Hajime yelp out his name. 

He grabs Hajime’s hips and licks at the slit again, eagerly swallowing the spurts of precum that Hajime gives him. He doesn’t hate the taste. It’s his _Iwa-chan_ and he wants _more_. 

Tooru carefully sinks another inch of Hajime’s cock into his mouth and hears a gasp. It sounds like a warning. However, he simply doubles his efforts and forces as much of Hajime into his mouth as he can. In seconds, Hajime is wailing, the cry turning into a gasp of Tooru’s name and his mouth is suddenly filled with cum. 

He searches out every drop with his tongue, eagerly swallowing all that Hajime has to give. 

He’s got it so bad for this boy twisting beneath him. This is something he’s imagined for years. He’d always thought Hajime would be quiet, but Tooru is enamored with every little yelp and moan that spills from his boyfriend’s mouth as he rides out his climax. It’s much better than anything Tooru had ever created in his head.

Hajime’s rapid breathing slows and he relaxes into the bed with a dreamy look on his face. The rise and fall of his chest slows and Tooru crawls over him, snickering, “ _Sooo…_ I guess you were into that?”

Hajime huffs a laugh and lethargically pushes Tooru’s grinning face to the side. When he immediately comes back, Hajime runs a lazy hand up his jawline, then down the slope of his neck.

Tooru feels a lump growing in his throat. Hajime is looking at him _too_ lovingly. It’s overwhelming and if he keeps staring like this, Tooru might burst into tears. _Happy_ tears, but _still_ , his cock is hard and he’s so _hot_ from watching Hajime come. He wants to get off too. 

He can have a long, hard cry over Hajime’s overwhelming amount of love and support _later_.

He strokes his cock and presses his lips to Hajime’s, who responds with a dreamy sigh, tongue slow and lethargic as he laps into Tooru’s mouth. They lazily make out as Hajime regains his breath. Once his movements become more alert, he pulls back, eyes following the string of spit connecting their mouths. When it finally snaps, he looks up at Tooru with lidded eyes and says, “Now _I_ want to make _you_ come.”

Heat shoots up Tooru’s cock and, slightly dazed, he nods his consent. 

Hajime runs a hand over his back, tracing his spine, before stroking over his tailbone. He leaves his fingers there, tracing around the little bump of bone, and asks bluntly, “Can I try eating you out?”

Tooru squeezes his eyes shut and chokes down a whimper. Post-orgasm Iwa-chan is so much more casual and self-assured about this. It does nothing but sweep away any residual nerves Tooru had about letting the other touch him so intimately. 

He mumbles, “O-Okay, yeah. Um, I- uh, I-I cleaned myself earlier, for you, just in case.” 

“ _Fuck_ , baby, you’re so sexy. Let me see you, sweetheart,” Hajime murmurs.

“ _Yes, please. Touch me, Iwa-chan._ ”

Hajime takes his ass in both hands, maneuvering them around until Tooru has his back on the bed and Hajime is on all fours, hovering over him.

“Tell me. Tell me what you did,” Hajime whispers as he guides Tooru’s long legs over his shoulders. Tooru whimpers as the most intimate parts of himself are put on display. 

Hajime instantly takes his hand and asks, “You okay? Do you want to stop?”

Tooru fervently shakes his head and pants, “ _No, I want you_. It’s just that, uh, I don’t think I’m gonna last very long.”

Hajime grins and says, “Well I didn’t last too long either, so I think you’re in good company.”

Tooru smiles back, squeezes Hajime’s hand, and watches as his boyfriend’s eyes rake over his naked body, before fixating on the space between his legs. 

“Sweetheart, tell me how you got yourself ready for me. Go on now,” Hajime pushes.

“I-I was in the shower,” Tooru stutters as Hajime sucks on his own fingers while deliberately maintaining eye contact. He pulls them out and notices Tooru’s hungry stare, so he offers them up. Tooru obediently takes them into his own mouth, sucking hard and lapping sloppily between the fingers, before releasing.

Hajime holds them up to examine. In the low lighting of his bedroom, his fingers glisten wetly.

Tooru whines when he feels a tentative finger brush over his hole. His cock twitches at the new sensation, at _someone else’s_ fingers down there, touching him so intimately, instead of his own. 

“What else?” Iwaizumi goads, urging Tooru to keep talking. He lightly circles a wet finger around the pucker, once, twice. He keeps petting with featherlight touches and Tooru bites his lip, desperately trying to remember what they were talking about. Hajime begins stroking more insistently, pressing against the hole and then withdrawing. He wiggles just the tip of his finger inside, not even past his fingernail.

“I was thinking of you. Pretending it was your fingers. S’not the first time either,” Tooru gasps, hips jumping off the bed. 

“Did it feel good?” 

Hajime presses the finger further inside, now past his fingernail, and lets it sit there a moment before withdrawing. He’s waiting for an answer. 

“Felt s-so good…didn’t come though, wanted y-you to be the one to make me come tonight,” Tooru whimpers. 

Hajime groans and pushes his finger inside again, just an inch or so, and Tooru humps his hips down, aching for _more_. He might be a virgin, but he’s tried stuff by himself before. He’s not _completely_ new to this.

Hajime strokes a warm hand over Tooru’s thigh and hums in approval, low and deep. Tooru whines as the sound sends heat spiking up his cock. He _loves_ Hajime’s voice and the gentle, attentive care of his fingers.

Hajime pushes his finger in all the way and Tooru cries out. He’s _really_ not gonna last long. 

But in this moment, he relishes this new feeling of vulnerability as he’s laid bare beneath the earnest devotion and careful treatment of his lover. It’s a feeling he’s never wanted with anyone else. 

_No one but you, Hajime. Just you, always just you._

He’s pulled from his thoughts as Hajime lowers himself down on the bed and peers at Tooru’s entrance. He’s inches away, so close that Tooru can feel hot breaths brush over the sensitive skin between his hole and his full, heavy balls. Tooru whimpers, embarrassed, but the sound turns to a gasp when something warm and wet laps at the soft give of his pucker, already slippery from Hajime’s finger. 

Tooru releases a tiny whimper and almost comes at the thought of _Iwa-chan, it’s_ ** _Iwa-chan_** _doing that, down there._

“You’re so soft and tiny here,” Hajime whispers so quietly that Tooru isn’t sure he’s even meant to hear it. The words alone make his hole pulse under Hajime’s keen gaze and warm breaths. 

He moans as Hajime licks at him again. The way his tongue tentatively pokes and laps at his hole reminds Tooru that they’re both so inexperienced at this. They still have to explore each other’s bodies, find out what works, what doesn’t work. He can’t imagine baring his body and soul like this to anyone else. 

Hajime soon abandons his careful kitten-licks and begins to fervently eat Tooru out, clearly intent on making him come. He licks and sucks at Tooru and the squelching noises he’s making are _so_ sloppy and lewd. Tooru feels utterly filthy. His breath hitches when he imagines what Hajime must look like down there, eating him out so earnestly, mouth wet and dripping as he sucks at his hole. He imagines the way his pucker must look, pink and glistening with Hajime’s spit, now soft and pliant under his tongue. 

_Maybe I am an exhibitionist…_

He grips onto the bedspread, knuckles white. 

Hajime starts pushing, increasing the pressure on Tooru’s now-soft hole until it spreads and lets his tongue in. The stretch sends lightning up through Tooru’s body. He shrieks, arches off the bed, and has to keep himself from grinding down on Hajime’s face. 

He hears his own embarrassing noises and tries to cut off the filthy wail. It turns into a strangled, almost pained squeak. Instantly, that deliciously wet tongue is pulled from his body and Hajime’s voice is pleading in his ear, “ _Fuck._ _Please_ , Tooru _._ I’m _begging_ you, let me hear everything. Don’t hide from me, sweetheart.”

And Tooru has always been helpless whenever Hajime asks something of him, so he unclenches his jaw and the next time Hajime sucks on his pucker, he lets out a piercing wail, that could probably be heard throughout the house. Moments later, when Hajime stiffens his tongue and pushes it in as far as it can go, Tooru shrieks and grinds down on his face. He can feel his boyfriend’s rapid, warm breaths in the crease of his ass, on his balls, the underside of his cock. 

Hajime’s responding groan vibrates against Tooru’s hole and has him desperately scrabbling at Hajime’s broad shoulders.

As soon as Tooru’s blunt nails sink into him, Hajime pulls away.

“Tooru? What is it? Do you want to stop?”

And Tooru suddenly can’t answer, can’t even speak, because he’s too busy _looking_ at Hajime, his _childhood_ friend, low between his legs, mouth dripping wet, eyes positively devouring him. Yet, there’s still so much love in those eyes, even as Hajime confirms Tooru’s comfort. 

Tooru has only ever imagined _this_ at his weakest points, when he was absolutely certain Iwaizumi Hajime would never, _could never,_ love him back. And now that Tooru has him here, between his legs, panting and red-faced and every bit as into _this_ as Tooru is, he plans to _savor_ it. 

“Sweetheart? Do we need to stop?”

“No, fuck no, _Hajime_ , _please_. Put your mouth back on me. _Need_ _you._ ” 

As soon as permission is given, Hajime sinks right back down between Tooru’s legs. With an intensity Tooru’s never seen in him before, he devours twitching entrance. 

Tooru commits the image to memory, along with every other bit of new information he’s learned tonight. For years, he’s been an expert on _Hajime the Best Friend_ , but now he can only desperately grasp at any and every minute detail on _Hajime the Lover_. 

And Tooru’s absolutely _starving_ for knowledge. 

He suddenly wants to come, needs to discover how _Hajime_ will make him come. With a whine, he gasps, “Iwa-chan, I’m-I’m getting close. You’re so much, _so good_. Please, just a little more?”

“Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” Hajime growls and Tooru almost comes from that alone. The growl. The pet name. The person saying it. 

_Iwa-chan_. _My Hajime._

Tooru’s cock is slick with precum as Hajime wraps his hand around it and begins to pump. He ducks down to suck harshly on Tooru’s rim before his tongue stiffens and pushes in, only to quickly withdrawal. Tooru whimpers and arches briefly off the bed as, once again, he imagines what Hajime must look like, licking at his pink, twitching insides, face wet, intent on making him come. 

Hajime spears his tongue and plunges it inside of Tooru again, thrusting it in as deep as it will go, swirling it around, smoothing and stroking over fluttering walls. 

Tooru shrieks. 

And suddenly he’s coming, whimpering Hajime’s name over and over again. 

He gives his lover everything, emptying himself into Hajime’s hand while impaled on his tongue. Tooru’s legs go slack and spread easily, knees pressed to bed, completely open and on display for Hajime. With one last soft cry, his climax peaks and Tooru collapses, muscles quickly turning loose and heavy. 

As his rapid breathing slows, he comes back to himself, suddenly drained. 

After a quiet moment, he seeks out his boyfriend. Glancing down, Tooru finds Hajime still relaxed between his spread legs, a cheek resting on his thigh, wearing a soft smile, and simply watching Tooru with sleepy eyes. When he sees Tooru looking back, he presses a featherlight kiss to the sensitive skin off his inner thigh.

Voice low and drowsy, Tooru murmurs, “ _Mmm_ , Hajime, miss you. Come back?”

And then Hajime’s there, hovering over him and pressing the most delicate, blossoming kisses all over his face. He kisses each eyelid. His nose. He brushes over cheekbones. Then the tip of an eyebrow. And finally, finally, finally he’s back on Tooru’s mouth, rolling their tongues together. 

There’s a lethargy to their movements as they lapse into a sleepy, post-orgasm daze, but Tooru treasures this, the slow caress of tongues, the tickle of skin against skin, the delicate brush of warm lips, the newness tied to a first time.

After a moment, Hajime whispers, “You’re really pretty.”

Tooru traces the shell of his ear and replies, “ _You’re_ beautiful.”

“Don’t try to one-up me right now, asshole! Just take the compliment.”

Tooru bursts into giggles and presses their bodies together. Grinning, Hajime drapes an arm over his waist. After he settles, he wrinkles his nose before saying, “ _Gross_. I’m in all your fluids now, you turd.” 

“ _Ew_ , Iwa-chan. Don’t make our love making sound so icky. It was really special. Besides _,_ you didn’t seem to have a problem with my _fluids_ thirty seconds ago.” 

“Thirty seconds ago I was a different person. Now, I’ve seen things. _Done things_. I’m a changed man, Tooru, my sweetheart, my love.”

Tooru snorts with laughter and, without thinking, says, “ _Hmm_ , do you think a changed man like yourself can stomach being with someone like me?”

The look Hajime gives him is slightly confused, but then turns so soft, so affectionate, and so overwhelmingly _new_ and filled with love that Tooru feels tears prick the corner of his eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Hajime asks, a slight furrow between his brows. “Did I hurt you? Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”

Tooru sniffles and murmurs, “No, I’m j-just still getting used to you looking at me like this” He traces a finger over the cut that’s still healing on Hajime’s forehead, before trailing it over his cheekbone. 

“Like what?”

Tooru lets his hand fall to the bed. “Like…um…I don’t know. I guess, like-like you’re looking at me right now.”

Hajime kisses him, a soft, dry brush of their lips, and says, “Like you’re special? Desirable? Like I know that I’ll cherish sharing our first time and making love to you forever? Like I adore every part of you? Like you’ve been the only one for me since before I even knew what love was?”

Tooru blinks rapidly and nods, bottom lip quivering. “I’m n-not used to people looking at me like you do. I’m not…I’m not an easy person to _want_ , to _pursue_ , to _love_.”

“ _Sweetheart_ , you’re the easiest person to love. There’s no one in the world I could ever love more. I’ve been looking at you like this our whole lives. I’m only sorry I never did it when you were looking back.” Hajime reaches up to wipe a single tear from Tooru’s cheek. 

“I’m s-sorry,” Tooru mumbles, letting out weak a weak sob as more tears start to slip down his face. “P-people usually want m-me for the things I c-can give them. No one ever w-wants m-me because I’m _m-me_.” 

“ _Oh Tooru_ ,” Hajime whispers as he looks at Tooru sadly. “I swear I’ll do everything I can to show you that’s not true. Lots of people want you, including me. There’s never been a moment when I haven’t wanted you, sweetheart. I love you, not the things you can give me. You’re my person, the boy I chose when I was seven years old, the boy I’m still in love with. I’m not after your fame or your looks or your intelligence or your skills. I’m after _your_ _heart_. Will you trust me with it?”

Hajime’s green eyes grow glassy, but he keeps his attention on Tooru. He gently brushes away every tear that slips from brown eyes, even as they start to fall from his own. 

“It’s always belonged to you. I wouldn’t trust it to anyone else,” Tooru murmurs, so close that their lips brush. He begins to kiss the tears from Hajime’s cheeks. 

Voice tight, Hajime gives him a watery smile and adds, “And for the record, I’m only looking at you the same way you’ve always looked at me. I wish I’d had enough confidence in myself to consider that maybe we both wanted the same thing.”

“Even at seven years old, I knew I wanted a lifetime with you. I had no idea what that was supposed to look like, but I knew I wanted to figure it out with you,” Tooru whispers, his heart so full of love for his childhood friend. 

Hajime blinks away his remaining tears and asks, “Do you think you could be happy? Spending a lifetime with me?”

“I don’t think I could be happy with anyone else. Only Iwa-chan. Just you.” 

Tooru kisses him and repeats “ _just you_ ” in a whisper before smiling and snuggling close to his boyfriend. 

“You make me so happy. I’ve never felt this happy before, not in my entire life,” Hajime admits, meeting Tooru’s smile with one of his own.

“I want a lifetime with you. _Just you_ ,” Tooru says again.

“Pinky promise?”

Hajime grins and offers up his little finger, one eyebrow raised. Tooru beams and twists their pinkies together. 

“Pinky promise, Iwa-chan, _just you._ ”

Hajime finishes for him. 

“ _Forever and ever. No take backs allowed_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that read this! I had an amazing time writing soft iwaoi :) I love Haikyuu and I'd be happy to write about more dumb volleyball boys. 
> 
> Another huge thanks to everyone that left comments and kudos! They really kept me going and all the support was COMPLETELY unexpected. I've never received this kind of positive feedback on my writing before! It's been amazing and I literally smile so hard every time I read a new comment. 
> 
> Check out my twitter where I post updates about my stuff and what I'm thinking of writing!  
> [Gari on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Garicole_G)
> 
> Now that it's finished, please let me know what you thought of this fic if you have the time! I love ALL of your comments, whether it's just a smiley face or a massive, paragraphs-long dissertation :)
> 
> Love,  
> Gari


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